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Aug 2017
There is sweet whistling,
And rushing wind
Around my reddened ears.
Flailing leg and arm
To catch,
but not to harm.
Striking whatever may lie near;
And fate does strike the hearts of evil men,
Like a blow of grace does dignify its blow,
And I?
true to that which does dignify
Hang on nothing,
And let nothing go.
A man,
making snow angels,
In sand
Benjamin Brown
Written by
Benjamin Brown  28/M/Los Angeles
(28/M/Los Angeles)   
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