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Mar 2018
I took this withered body:
Wilted under the pressure of the moon,
A simple shard of glass
Transparent in the carpet.
And I saw it in a new light
Of a graceful waterfall
That doesn’t know the difference
Between what I used to be
And the way I stand here now
Wash away my
Wash away my
Wash away my
Emerge a butterfly
Ann Beaver
Written by
Ann Beaver
225
     trf, Fuzz, life's jump and unholy ghost
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