Poetry

”Commune”

A gathering of familiar noise
Conversing
Throwing jabs at their each other
At the top of their voices
Non-chalant
with little or no mind of their own
Going round in circles
Murmuring
Blabbing
Never quiet except when mandatory
Necessary evils
Losing them is synonymous to death itself
Their unnecessary opinion counts the most
An important piece of a puzzle
Struggling to come out tops
To rule over
Unconsciously killing the rest
But in the end
The best wins
The others return to their tents
And revamp for the next.

xx

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