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Sep 2015
We are the dried out things,
The little deaths and brittle leaves.
We are the grey of bleached out bones,
The glare of the sunlight in the cold.
We are the fallen things,
The shattered hopes and bitter dreams.
We are the feathers of broken wings,
The dust of a summer's eve.
Something Simple
Written by
Something Simple
381
   --- and Yasmine
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