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Jul 2018
Somewhere along the narrow path,
I dream of what I cannot have.
Lushes and blooms fill the gravels
whisking away at scared ankles.
Skies scream of consistent mellows,
drowing about my broken trebles.
The winds of change play their harps,
but I am singing past their darks.
Laura
Written by
Laura  26/F/Toronto
(26/F/Toronto)   
346
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