Folding in
and covering
the quietest thoughts
and silent storms.
My whispering,
collapsing, sin
may break your will,
not let you in.
This padded cell
may fit me well,
it sees me fade,
how cold remains.
This lonely heart
is silent now,
and that, in part,
is how they’ll tell.
So beat the drum,
one finger, thumb.
Lament the loss
then carry on.
The sky won’t fall,
in mirrored pall,
yet just
like you,
I’m gone.
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