Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

They

They came, they looked.
They pointed at the thing.
A broken book.
Or maybe a bird without a wing.

They screamed, implored.
They begged for it to go.
To strike a chord.
'haps the worst of all man's woes.

They hid, they cried.
They didn't want to see.
For deep inside.
I knew they were hiding from me.

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