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... shouldn't have said that?
Spite, rage, and fury-
all over
a simple misunderstanding.
Now it is predictable
that the phone's earpiece
will indicate
6 or 7 rings,
before breaking into voicemail.
I'll leave a messege,
but will never recieve
a call back.
Now the photographs
begin one-by-one
to burn.
But teardrops,
like a fire hose,
will never let
the memories go.
I don't think I much like this one... I wrote it quick, and in a bad mindset for writing poetry, but I can't figure out how I want to fix it now. Any suggestions?
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GOD HELP ME!
IT'S THE SOUND THAT MAKES ME PUNCH INFANTS! (but not ms. vodka's)
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