each syllable a note
some flat, some unbearably high-pitched
but voiced all the same
by the same unwieldy madam
who will never let you forget her name
sometimes written in blood
as the nights begin to fade
disecting her feelings
slashing the doubt
of an quarter century tirade
launched into without feeling
heaven forbid she lets you in
because when she does
there’s no escape
and the walls are oh so thin.
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