The Post

Well, it’s all gone, but do not despair,
It’s empty and she’s departed from life
But somewhere deep inside you know she’s there,
Withered, broken, from evil unknown strife.

She’s come to sing again but the bruises
Aren’t quite healed from being hidden away.
Full-Silenced by the near dead who chooses
To strangle them if they breathe to complain.

Wait as she bears herself to the river,
She’ll speak when her bed goes up in flame.

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