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The Voice



Lend an ear my dear friend
To a voice of a thousand waters
Howling, wailing, lamenting
And finally screeching in rage-
The voice of a million dead
Rising out of their graves
At the strike of the bell-
Bloody and putrid.

Be not a deaf to its call
You've ignored it long enough
To ceaselessly haunt your nights
And hold you by the throat.
Hark! It demands heat,
The cold ate so much of its flesh
And reduced it to a ghastly nightmare
Made of insatiable hunger for liberty.

You knew that voice, my friend
'Tis the voice who lives within you-
Oppressed, repressed, and bound
By the cruel chains of your unfaithfulness.
You betrayed it by living a lie
And wearing your cheap mask.

No longer it shall remain silent,
It shall make up for your shortness of courage,
It shall steal you from the hands of conformity
And shall wrap its arms around you.
It shall rise up in revolt
To take back what is due to it
And grasp back the power
To leave the usurper in ashes.

Lend an ear my dear friend
Be not deaf to that frightful voice.
'Tis coming from within you,
'Tis your soul.

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