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by
Eliot
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Poems
Jun 2012
Purge.
And she'll take her frozen finger
and send it down
to find the sources of her quiet sound,
the cold and shaky embodiment of her state of mind.
Because she hates what she is,
inside and out.
She looks everywhere
for a piece of beauty that she will never find.
"There's so much ugly in this world."
Here. Have a little more.
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Fading Butterflies
and
Genesis'
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