Music Says It All

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I sit down

at the kitchen table

and I whisper,

like he is sitting

right across from me.

"Jackson, I know its you.

I'm not scared.

Maybe I should be, but I'm not.

Whatever you need to do to talk to me,

in your own way, is okay.

I'm not scared."

"Can I see you?

I want to see you."

Nothing happens.

I ask him, "Don't ghosts or spirits or whatever

sometimes show themselves?"

And then

the CD player

on the kitchen counter

starts to play.

3 Doors Down.

Here By Me.

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