Posted in Poetry

Tuned Out by L. M. Montes

Talk is words,
nothingness pushed forth,
ears hear sound,
but words not profound.
A rain so dull,
no growth it brings
from what you are saying
as I sit and start praying.
Joy I could feel,
if all remained quiet,
but droning of sound
continued as underground.
A hand pushed up,
your words to stop,
and silence ensued
as your words ran askew.


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