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The silence in her voice

Spilled whiskey, a glass half empty, and my dejections; my voice remains dumped in the bottom pit of despair. Oh sleepless night, listen to the sleepless silence. Oh life, listen to my existence!

Entangled in the cobwebs of her silence, I wait for her on her doorsteps, kissing her footsteps which leads me to a mocking wall.

Pages of diary still filled with her voice, but where is her voice?

Talk to me once, my existence shouts! But where is her existence?

Sigh, but where is my existence?

Dawn after dusk, dusk after dawn, lie I soaked in the spilled whiskey on the floor of miseries, trying to find the lost voice of mine, of hers, of the time when we shared the memories of looking at the evening of an August sky.

Gather the stones, a voice said in the midnight of my dejection.

And I did try to gather the fallen stones.

But along came an engine that broke my bones. Ah, I said...

Ah, said the piggy that's not fair 
Oh, said the engine driver
I don't care. I don't care.

The ringt…

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