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They Come to Me When Things Are Still

They come to me when things are still

And leave me without choice to hear

The things I've heard and know too well

Of tired topics,

To be clear

I, myself and just the ears

Without chance to think, or speak

It seems all I do is overhear

Their endless banter of 

Self critique

Seldom, do I have a moment

For myself

Today, for instance 

Was particularly loud

Who...

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End rhymeshealingmental healthnarrative poem

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