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dust and bronze casings

that unending

grip

stomach

throat

that everything can be taken

away

the day

you pegged the

cottontail with

your

22-rifle

unaware

until

short breaths

between

eyes dart

quick and eternal

riding the edge of the

moments

death waits behind

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Written by

benjamin-woolley

American

Published: Dec 25, 2017
LinesWords: 2039

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