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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.
Okay, okay. Go ahead, make fun of the bad nickname-maker. :)
I'll do my best to please your majesty.
Of course you can, Stargirl. It is with delight that I hand my words over to you.
Yes, yes, indeed, savetheplanet! We don't want to leave them out, that wouldn't be cricket. Is there anything I can call you besides savetheplanet? If not, I shall have to come up with a fitting nickname.
I know this is not quite a sonnet, but oh well.