Singular Voices

In the schoolhouse

the rain keeps falling outside,

and only the voice

of a once sane lunatic inside

fall on many deaf ears.


When numbers in chairs

are just eyes on mouthless faces,

and everyone seems to talk

to their illuminated screen.


How can we matter

if we’re not around.


The isolated voice shouts.

It commands and demands

attention across a digital sea

to eyes far away.


Does it even remember a time before the rain? When friends are divided

and 6 feet apart feels like 6 miles.

When the voice of knowledge

is condemned to grant wisdom

to squares rather than flesh.


How can we matter

if we’re not around.


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