e-Paper Poetry of Vinx

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On a microphone

Each time I spoke
In a pubic place
Using microphone

I hear my tone
I assume it jeers
From an ear that hear.

The speakers buzz
As my impulse drums
Louder than my voice

Cloning my fear
So I dread the worse
Possible result…

Do they listen
Do they feel my words
My feet gently cold,

And not until
I did realize that
My voice never count

But confidence
Is on the inside
I spoke out bold.

©2018 Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

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