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Sing of Nothing



Jagged crashes drag me back
to breathing aloud,
the escape too brief
to heal me.

A bundle of blades, cruel
icicles cling;
my predictions
live inside.

The slats seep flashes
I’d rather miss.
Deep drifts wither,
drained to land.

Blind winds, slick
with uneasiness,
sing of nothing.



Written by Atakti
Published
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