Where do all the onlies go,
When all the rest are gone?
When the voices all are stilled
And all that is, is alone?
Eroding Atlas bears the weight
Of silence, hunched, head bowed.
Where have all the voices gone,
The ones that filled my head
With worith-living life and dreams?
Gagged, bent to fit the rules
Tethered to all of nothing
No reason to go on.

About suzanawylie

Suzana Wylie is the not-very-pseudo pseudonym of Susan Wylie Wilson, because let's face it, there are lots of Susan Wilsons around, and as an author, I want readers to find ME and not the bazillions of others. I've been writing all my life - since I learned to hold a pencil anyway - and can't NOT write. Other people have to breathe to live; I have to write.
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