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Jul 2015
Arms swing heavy,
like a carcass in the wind.
Sweat beads between fingers
dripping through ash.
Colors saturate and burn.
Return to your prison.
Pushing through the veil,
inhaling its poison.
Scraping its grit between bones.
Arms swinging heavy.
-
Anna
Written by
Anna  Minneapolis
(Minneapolis)   
387
     Lior Gavra, LB Parker and Cecil Miller
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