The sound of the glass cup as it falls.
The beauty of the cacophony as it shatters.
The sound of cloth ripping off the dolls.
These sounds, how they make me shudder.
As much as I hate being yelled at, and even more yelling,
How much distasteful sounds I endure, there is no telling.
Please, oh please, let this cup pass from my hands,
before the time comes for me to return to the sands.
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