Plait

Plights of the blighted
in the plaited folds of
communication
breaking down.

Sinners of the oldest songs
sing in unison with
the pipes beating out:

One
Two
Three

One
Two
Three

The song is in remission.
The timbre has dulled
the key.

The strings are broken
and the heads are snapped.

The soundless sing the symphony.

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