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John
Poems
Nov 2016
counting drops of blood
blood on my fingertips.
caught the brunt
and couldn't hack it.
blood on your lips.
you whisper in my ear
and it drips,
drips.
fire on the mountain.
from the valley below
i was counting.
alarms were sounding.
but i stayed
and in the smoke i was lounging,
counting.
Written by
John
28/M/New York
(28/M/New York)
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and
Weeping willow
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