improving the aperture-
the forced light;
the swelling of cells,
the yelling through hell -
years of hell and i widen the lense a bit;
tune into the sound,
my own movements
beating rhythms in the ground.
amid the noise,
i tend to my voice -
a quiet light to resurrect her choice.
still as the will
of the angels strum
along to the
grounds quiet drum.~
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