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the poetry i’ve washed cleaned prepped with my own limbs has been formed molded shaped for the heaviness in my heart the aching in my bones the the static in my head to find another home it makes me yearn for more the poetry i’ve washed cleaned prepped with my own limbs is grieving mourning for the death of the poet’s own guide to the words lines scrapes of scattered thoughts in this f-cking grave
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Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 2:15 AM UTC
the death of a poet
the poetry i’ve washed cleaned prepped with my own limbs has been formed molded shaped for the heaviness in my heart the aching in my bones the the static in my head to find another home it makes me yearn for more the poetry i’ve washed cleaned prepped with my own limbs is grieving mourning for the death of the poet’s own guide to the words lines scrapes of scattered thoughts in this f-cking grave
opheliaoakley
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Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 2:15 AM UTC
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