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The Sound
A sound escapes.
It's now too late.
Embarassment fills your solemn face.
They look at you in such disgrace.
The laughing starts, you want to die.
It's human to, so let it fly.
It really was quite loud.
Surrounded in a rancid cloud.
They run and hide.
While others stick around to chide.
You tell them that you really tried.
To keep from slipping out your pride.
Don't worry though they've done it too.
Turning the air to perfect blue.
It felt real good,
so why should you turn away from this lovely tune.
So let it rip. It's such a trip.
To make all the buggers lose their grip.
Here it comes again so proud.
Feel the rush and let it pound.
poem
by
Michael McParland
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