MusingsPoetry

Blow the Whistle

Speech upon speech,
with so much room to complain
and no one to take the blame.
Blow the whistle!
someone must take the fall.

And the rising noisy amplitude
peaked at a wrecking magnitude.
Tongues basking in ineptitude,
bristle was the attitude.

And character got maim
with every bit of wit slain.
What is left is a façade,
a whisper of a fading tune.

Words in war,
rankling wounded minds.
And sentences made of dagger,
left no survivors.

Blow the whistle!
Help will come…

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