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Dec 2018
Foaming, drifting, waiting

Roaming, shifting, hating.

Salt burns my skin, my eyes, my lips.

The wind is blowing, soon my flag rips.

The storm does not end, instead, brings more thunder.

I was not strong enough, so I just went under.
piper m
Written by
piper m  18/F
(18/F)   
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