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Luke R E Webster
Poems
Aug 2012
E D
I can feel it burning,
it's sat inanimate in my hands,
with my hands I'm turning,
trying to exert some life.
It's intricately strewn there,
nearly opaque and bland,
hardly seems unfair
that this curse has fell.
With a scent repugnant
it exerts itself entirely
into another psyche
to destroy their front.
Written by
Luke R E Webster
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Will Mercier
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