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Jan 2018
Red ink all smothered at the bay of my palms ,
Need a quill to collect and stop the bleeding crust
Small rusty hands and yet like water gaging in
Blank spaces , open minds and blank faces seeping in
Help me move while the clock says
Tick tock
Fly to the stars like an airplane
Time stops
As the dead star passes
Another lights up
Help me choose
Before I give up
Written by
LeeAndrea Gavile
231
   Pseudonym
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