The silence of the night
Cuts through the cacophony of the day
Whispers so loud, they seem like shrieks of the soul
Waiting to be heard, waiting to stay

A comfort in darkness, I always found
When my bosom would overflow
With emotions suppressed by the light
Finding their way from out of the shadow

My pen would then be the tool
With which I would hack them all
One at a time as I listened to the voices
It was I who bled with them all!

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