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Mute the Chirp
In the moments when all is best
He is a quiet whisper in her breast
A silent flutter that shades her eyes
And in this silence he is kind
Then we twist the volume
See how loud until she is ruin
See her death from beyond a shore
A flittering, agonized metaphor
This is the way to kill a girl
Turn up the volume and ignore
Pretend that all her screams
Are nothing but flapping in the breeze
When she learns that silence is best
Then we will hold her to our breasts
Having pressed her until she is mute
For that’s what they did to us.
Should we treat her any less?
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Comments
jack h Says:
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