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Luna
Poems
Sep 2018
The monologue of the dead kid- written at 2 am
I sit in the field
Where once myriads of gladiolus grew
Now—
There’s nothing but a heap of dried up grass here
In this barren space,
This isolated being.
Reckoning—
A shadow with a bone jaw
Gaps wide at me,
Baring it’s teeth.
Last of my breath
He draws me
Written by
Luna
16/F
(16/F)
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Fawn
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