Her Shrill Voice Poem by Kent Holman

Her Shrill Voice



She made me bleed
With her words.

Her shrill voice
was like a knife.

It stuck me
Violently.

It sliced the sinews
Of my heart

And it
Tore into my soul.

Such suffering
was to be expected,

Daily, weekly, monthy,
yearly, maybe eternally.

Or until the decision is made
To get the hell out!

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Kent Holman

Kent Holman

Long Beach, California
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