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I see a symphony playing softly on stage.
I hear an artist paint the final brushstroke of a masterpiece.
I walk with a limp, and see my perfect shadow.
I try to touch you, and grasp the air.
When I speak,
my voice is covered over by the tapping of your pencil against your desk.

Allan Onik

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The following comments are for "Speak"
by Bradburyskin

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