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Nov 2012
No face.
Going through space
as if there is no time,
a race.
Farthest it goes is the book
put in its place.
A pace.
Looking forward
and marking each lace
on his shoe
as if he has no taste.
Full case.
The guard is standing with a mace.
The ballerina has no grace.
It's betrayed by her face.
Written by
Dena
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