The yawning block that sputters in silence
the unanimous heart’s empty voices
like a purring cat that cannot listen
to the inner cry that roars for comfort:
There are no words for unuttered speech acts
that crawl into the burning throat and croak
before truth finds expression in beauty
and lucid thoughts unravel explicit:
Like a dog, still muzzled as its master
nears after years of forced separation,
aims to bark, or whimper, in glee — but can’t;
so too do the voiceless strive to be heard:
Resigned to the freedom of potential,
another night blurs into the deaf air.

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