Sometimes, it's all I can hear
words similar to mine
but not the same
This is the handwriting in my ear:
Hello our old friend
You should know our names by now
he doesn't want your help or your love
not anymore
countless poems later,
He sees them as a profound waste of words
He wants only our mercy
Don't worry, we won't hurt him
And you'll never hear him scream
We all have been weighed, and found wanting . . .
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