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I write the words that my heart cannot speak.

The words your eyes will never meet.

The words my mouth refuses to greet.

The words my thoughts serve to my mind as a treat.

The words that are hidden beneath.
The light of the manifest heaven is, alas, as a breeze in the middle of the night.
The hellish blaze of former times still resonate in my heart.
Knowledge is as a copious fountain in the Earth's riverbed,
And wisdom grows on every vine even if it dwells upon the dust.
The measurement of time is the only level left between the people of the world.
Seeing clearly the brighter side
Be you black
Be you white
We are all one

Be you pink
Be you brown
We are all one

Man is man
No matter his colour
No matter his tongue
she was so beautiful
so i plucked her from her bed,
denied her a glass of water,
and suffocated her between
two encyclopedias
so she could stay
that way
f
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 Aug 2020 eleanor prince
Prevost
A child beggar sitting in the dirt of Guatemala
once asked me for a meal
and for salvation
and still the rain poured down
I split myself
widening the distance
between the warm and the cold
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