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Blur

Everywhere, clocks and gears oversee

The passing storms that time their paces.

The leap between air and faces

Is more imagined than shown.

Forever lost among the few

Are trails, leaves, and traces.

Given up on chases-

I'd rather be alone.

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Written by
kristen-moxley
American
Published
Feb 5, 2010
Lines·Words
8·41
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