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To Be Heard


What do I fear?

What brings horror near?

It is a death-

But a death that still draws breath-

For I fear not fire's

All destroying desire,

Nor faint at Ice,

Ensnarer in cold vice,

I fear not water black as ink

Where to drowned death some sink

There's a fear that's worse-

That I would not be heard.

 

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Comments (1)

<p>A poem expresing the living death of not being heard.</p>

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