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Irate Watcher
Poems
Jan 2015
sentences.
I worked on poetry for three hours. It felt great.
Art is me breathing, not rationalizing me breathing.
I created a melody, then cried. It was beautiful.
I practiced it and felt hollow. I moved on.
I created a GIF for work and then wrote this.
I am still in sweats.
Written by
Irate Watcher
30/F/Denver
(30/F/Denver)
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