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Piccolo Do

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Do not float…but whisper vibrations,
a haunting piccolo do, ghosting behind
my eyes. Long after the symphony
has gone to dark and the cello cried,
nocturnal envy with a chilling pulse
and heavy strings. Dripping from the
needle a silence to remember. Down
the hypotenuse, like a ghost trapped
in a grave,but vibrations remain, a
haunting piccolo do.

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