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Dec 2011
Panic
my chest beats
staccato on a snare drum
Fingers twitch
pen skitters
letters, syllables, lost
Run!
run far away and
leave this place-
there’s nothing left
of your humanity.
The gods embrace my tremors
and their love
enflames destruction.
Inferno consecrating,
consume the ash
a phoenix
(my soul sings)
Written by
Jane Rochester
818
   Grant B
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