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Oct 2015
From sands I arise,
to the faded skies over,
these hardened eyes,
and overexposure.

The bone-dry plains,
and arid weather,
have crackled my skin.
this sun-baked nether.

Drain on morale,
and eroder of soul,
nothing left now,
so I dig my last hole.

the yellow-white sea,
it stretches on.
it thirsts for me.
I am--long gone.
Phil B
Written by
Phil B  M/Perth
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