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soft windowpanes
The children are quiet today,
Perhaps tired or
Awed by the booming gongs outside
That rock the square they sit inside.
Electricity fizzes against the windows,
The thick glass gushing with sharp sweat
As the sky pours down its anger
In a torrent of rain.
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I wrote this poem on my phone as rain poured down outside. I revised it during my lunch, and finalized it at home.