Soft Cries
K.N. Lee
An intense urge smothers me
Ripping me from my sleep
Begging me to bleed
Those soft cries
Of mourning
Spinning painful prose
Like wicked spells
Dripping them onto
The blood-stained parchment
Of my bitter past
This urge has arisen
Like those soft cries
Breezing through almost unseen
Swirling and twirling
Like the cracked music box
I shall weep beauty from my tainted soul
And share it with my broken heart
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