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-Confucius had his Analects and I have my journal-
Unplayed song
Soft echoes reverberating throughout a vacuum
Hazed sounds fall on deaf ears
Or so one would assume
Action-packed silence; an untold story throughout the years

But the piano has dust now
Caked in the tell-tale shroud
But who can hear it and how?

Ravaged with passion dormant
And the excruciating torment
A message clear foments
A message yet to be sent

A message rightfully sonorous
Without a chorus
Don't undermine what you haven't witnessed; even its silence is glorious.





 
 
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