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How cold the silence of the unheeded cry

How long the night of the sleepless sleeper

It is the misery of doubt, the burden of fear that

steals reason.

As the nights and days blend, the mind turns, finally, on itself

And from there there is no escape save the slow-turn clamp of unreason


4 thoughts to “Unheeded”

  1. I feel those screws, John. That’s a fine turn of phrase, ‘the slow-turn clamp of unreason’, have been caught in that vice once too often to forget. You have left the source of that ‘doubt’ nicely unsaid, as in the end it’s the ‘doubt’ per se that’s important, not what it has in its teeth!

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