a single singing violin strung
in an orchestral concerto of clamoring canons
it's ironic how you can't distinguish this violin
a singular separate sound
until a false note pricks
at the hairs in your ear
hear
angel sounds now dodge camouflaged
lodged in the amazing grace of acoustic taste
here
the second row
third seat of the string section
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.

CrazySquid

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