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Ann Beaver
Poems
Aug 2015
Metal
Black mud
Slip
Fall.
It was the scars
That gave it away
Call out into the storm
Hear the wind scream
Over and over ask
Is this real or is this a dream
Throw metal around
(It's comforting for a second)
Turn up the sound
So you can't hear
Death coming
Written by
Ann Beaver
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