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May 2016
The boatman glides over dark waters,
Calloused hands hold heavy oars.
City lights twinkle like fire flies,
On murky currents forged by undertows.
His face well carved by years of hardship,
A backbone bent by deep regret,
He's marking tickets off for the passengers,
Most still unawares
His name be Death.
HRTsOnFyR
Written by
HRTsOnFyR  portland oregon
(portland oregon)   
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