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Feb 2012
The sun.
A beacon guiding all
toward the good intentions
that grow over
where graves begin.

Time doesn't change
inside the frame.
There's only the dust
collecting.

Outside the glass
the sky
is
falling...
one
drop
at
a
time.
Written while my mom was in the hospital ICU, struggling to survive...
and my uncle was in the same ICU...
struggling to die.
Tara Ewer
Written by
Tara Ewer
1.2k
   emma joy, --- and JL
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