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ella
Poems
May 2012
the blank
i paint the blank
about as well
as any gilded painter of the renaissance
from the foreing stretches of my heart
i sculpt it: dready monologue, self portrait
my one work of art
of fear and sandstone,
membrane, chills
i fear it gives me comfort;
as i know it, comfort kills.
i've had lots of english and geography which inevitably result in this
Written by
ella
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