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Jan 2018
She was a guitar string,
Perfectly in place,
Going along with every beat,
Perfectly manicured face.

But then she started to twist and turn,
Something didn’t sound right,
She didn’t go with the beat,
That was her final night.

No one ever noticed,
The guitar string trap,
Because sometimes to get in perfect tune,
They leave you there to
              Snap.
Written by
Ruth  F/U.S.A
(F/U.S.A)   
195
   Yasin
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