A MUSIC

805
2
Submitted Date 09/21/2018
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My soul at times attests

To silent, strong arrests

Of unquenchable, unspeakable

Expression; words unable

To sound, no sound to serve

The inner tongue that's bound,

Yet a current gushing to escape

Rushes to the breast, where it

Stops, because no word

Can sing what I begot.

Comments

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  • Miranda Fotia 3 years, 4 months ago

    I know that feeling well. Great poem!

  • No name 3 years, 3 months ago

    I enjoy the older language you used and how easily you convey the message.