Deaf World

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  • Dark Poetry

    Deaf World
    I hear the cries of the world in my head.
    They cry out to me in pain.
    In sorrow.
    In anger.
    In bliss.
    In fear.
    In the end I hear the cries of the world,
    but I become deaf to the calls.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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