White NoiseA Poem by BeccaIt’s the white noise, the blank space I’ve come to hate, Cropped only by the cacophonous shrieks of the clock, Reminding me Each Sec- Ond Is Fleet- Ing And that each dreaded moment I spend Lying down or dreaming, trying to befriend the silence "And peace" Is a worthless one; wasted, shot dead By a bullet propelled by the natural explosion of time, Striking with frightening accuracy, Because I was too tired, too lazy To redirect the gun.© 2015 Becca |
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1 Review Added on August 14, 2015 Last Updated on August 14, 2015 Author
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