RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Deathly silent, nothing moving, suffocating in the still, still air.
Labored breathing, stomach held in knots, holding anger tightly
Concentrating, barely, on the feelings bursting within.
Checking them like hats in a coatroom, taking and putting them one
by one into steel jars.
After all the years, tears hardened like diamonds, are holding the
No outward expressions or movements, quietly boiling and raging -
never allowed to come into being.
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