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Nov 2018
The fear of crazy.
Hides in a cloak.
It faces hazy.
Flavourless smoke.

A reaching hand burns to the touch,
Spite the hand, it doesn't mean much.
Yet.

Until it's silent, and the hood is off.
Revealing what you already knew.
Crazy isn't faceless, crazy is me
And crazy is you.
JRF
Written by
JRF  30/M/Auckland
(30/M/Auckland)   
161
     Woodweaver, ---, Cheryl and ---
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