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Aug 2017
Smokey charred fingers, wrapping tightly around loose strung souls.
That yelp and whine with every tug, a cord of music out of tune.
Smug smiles, and cautious laughs, fill stale and heartless air.
As stone hearts rumble and crumble, and false facades fall.
The tears and bruises fade, leaving behind warmth and home.
Written by
Jemma  F
(F)   
  357
 
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