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Elle Dougherty
Poems
Feb 2010
27 Oct
This morning was not a morning. An evening, perhaps.
Noon on a long, dark day.
From the top of the tallest building I watched the sun rise,
or what was supposed to be it.
Staring intensely at the greyness, my hands shaking on my rain-splattered knees.
Written by
Elle Dougherty
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