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Apr 2015
The shivering, constricting;
Orange peel of this earth;
Ripped from the helm, torn.
As loose leaf from a notebook.
The layers of this fragmented heart.

I call myself scar.
These gashes are the marks; I make.
A destructive path so lovely,
So real,
Rolling like a boulder that is,

I think therefore I am.
This boulder of philosophy.
Emersonian morality.
Watch me rumble,
Hear me roar.

This deadly call,
I am big,
I am so tall.
Bowling ball to societal pins.
That never fall.
Sam Stone Grenier
Written by
Sam Stone Grenier  25/M/Wisconsin
(25/M/Wisconsin)   
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