The Forgotten Voice
By Jasper Gentry
Nor here, nor there
I am the forgotten voice.
Feed me insecurities, pain, or suffering,
I'll soak it up, like a dry sponge
and harden into a happy face,
a parent-trophy,
to sit on the shelf case.
Too quiet, too coarse,
I am the forgotten voice.
Evil rages inside, anger, or happiness,
Funny versions of myself, a tidal wave.
Don't worry!
He's a happy chap!
Give him a bone!
All alone, no home,
I am the forgotten voice.
A smile through the sorrow, lonely,
A split-version of Earth.
My phone.
It rings,
I am trying to ring home
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