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lisbeth
Poems
Sep 2016
Forgive.
It's the depth of night.
Not the color of the sky.
It's the length of silk.
Not the size of material.
It's the sorrow of death.
Not the sadness of the dead.
It's the thrill of pain.
Not the happiness of destruction.
It is poetry.
Not words.
Written by
lisbeth
boston.
(boston.)
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ryn
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