No Voice For The Midnight

wasted
like paper wasted for the cells to whiten
sprinkling the soul onto the wall
permanently graphed tainted blood
to the point when sound does not wake up
does not want to wake up
does not want to wake up and give
a soothing sound of midnight
but merely sleeps deep 'neath the beat
slapping all faces of exhaustion
too tired too frail too hard to even speak
it keeps the caves of the mouth safely closed

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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