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Birdcaller
Poems
Jan 2017
paint
the strings that tie our fate are not red
they shift from dark to light
and never stop seeking.. searching
but your heart is red
redder than the deep hues of a sunset
and it drip. drip. drips
the color of our fate is red
but not randomly
our fate is painted
and we can pretend
Written by
Birdcaller
25/Genderqueer/Finding Home
(25/Genderqueer/Finding Home)
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