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Synesthesia
At the edge of silver,
a sharp pain rings through your body
At the top of tomorrow waits
a brick wall of disappointment.
The swirl of loneliness sounds like
a tumbleweed flitting through the air.
The shape of the past fits inside
a wet tear sliding down your face.
When you toss sadness into the wind, it returns
as the taste of salt as tears stream down your face when your sadness grew up into depression.
If you look underneath her peace,
you might hear screams for help.
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