Talking. Talking. Gone.


The amount of sound it spits out is amazing
It releases a lot of hot aired fumes
Translated into words of a missed understanding

Obviously, it doesn't know what happens when one assumes

It continues on with its nonfactual rant
That seems to have no foreseeable end
To its truly blissful ignorance
Which is now no longer tolerant

So, with a slow and calm exhale
I bid it a silent farewell.

  • Author: Cellus (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: September 24th, 2016 16:30
  • Category: Reflection
  • Views: 41
  • User favorite of this poem: jemina.

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