I like the sound of violin
Sharp and probing
Pricking like needles
My heart is numb and painful
Acupuncture violin
Pricking my heart my soul
I become lost too unbecoming
My defined peace
It is here in settled absences
Nothing fills it
Now it must be something coming new
Filling pricking needles of violins
Make me live make me pain some more.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

Submitted by Poetry Lover
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