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May 2016
I like to contemplate
the very existence
of all foundations
until I wonder
my purpose,
if there is one
or was I a mere mistake
of a sandstorm
formed without authority
from a breath of fire
with icy, cold hands
eyes as coal
with no glint of humane.
The Broken Poet
Written by
The Broken Poet  Texas
(Texas)   
732
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