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Whispers of Thornfield

On a rainy, silent night in Thornfield
the deserted streets, houses shrouded in fog
a town where time seemed to stand still
each shadow dancing beneath the flickering light
of the old train station
a relic of red bricks and worn wood

Clara Byrne waited
a young reporter, heart pulsating with mysteries
rumors swirling around her like the rain
about a train that departed at 11:59 PM
never...

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Who's Listening?

Words hither, words thither,
All around strewn is sound.
They speak and speaking are we...
But what I can't figure out is,
Who's listening?

Yesterday we had a fight.
And for hours everything went quiet.
A solemn thought lingered my mind,
Maybe now we'd figure out,
All that we messed up this time.
But the next day we stood at the start,
This time again, our hands holding our hearts.
T...

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Did You Hear Something?

if a tree falls and nobody is there should it make a recording

so that we all may hear it scream, tweet, so the birds that one day called it home

can carry word  of it’s strident surrender?

 

maybe this tree is happy to fall and rest in quiet reflection

of it’s once verdant splendour, at peace with its latest role

as the newest crossing over the forest stream and 

re...

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