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Nov 2018
so close to what i cannot touch,
the feeling felt within the drunk,
it might as well become the sun,
the unattained that burn with love.
rebelled against that shaky turn,
then crashed into a dying fern.
the kind of love that's meant to hurt,
the growing pains have lost their spurt.
Written by
charles  29/M
(29/M)   
186
   B E Cults and Lewis McCleod
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