angst cycle (iii)
[Ʃ] (i)
it’s the kind of sky
where you can look up and shout
and nothing could ever come back
there are no clouds
to reflect the echo
to resound the dispair
the slaughter of the voice
will just go on and on
fading in distance
until not even the background noise
will jar a moment in disharmony
not even in the foam
