Throat hollow as a flute.
A voice singing through this hollowness like water
through an iron pipe driven without mercy
into a hemorrhaging spring.

The sound of water singing under pressure
can heal the weary but the water itself is cold
cold enough to stop a heart.

Come to this well and ask anything of it
but only when there is no answer
can you trust what it says.

After silence all we have are lies.
Lies written in braille for the blind to read
for anyone who has hands to see.


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