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The True Voice Beneath the Others
The oracle predicted doom
The rebel spoke of lies
The quivering lips prefaced teardrops
Dropping from the eyes
The bishop mumbled ‘heresy’
The prophet shouted ‘truth’
The beggar lamenting all the while
Whistling through his missing tooth
The fire foretold ashes
The storm suggested rain
The cough, so quiet, hinted at
Long nights of sweat and pain
But your face, that blossom,
And the radiance thereof
I saw your face
And heard it speak
So quietly
Of love
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This article has 25 comments.
I wish.
Teen Ink is afraid to put me in their magazine, because I am so extreme-i-ly rebellious and daring. No, the Silent Raven walks his own path; he doesn't need the approval of the man in the chair.
That is, simply put, an extraordinary compliment.
I don't really know how to thank you...
I know this is not quite a sonnet, but oh well.