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III
Poems
Oct 2017
10-3-17, Tuesday, 10:59pm
The holes in my lungs,
They peer around like beady eyes
Searching for some glimmer of light,
The air that flowed through them
Used to whistle when I breathed,
But now all they do is creak,
Clotted and dead,
Black and rotting,
I'm drowning from the inside out
Written by
III
Chicago
(Chicago)
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Lior Gavra
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