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Tipon
Poems
Mar 2019
Untitled
Facing my demons and speak their lingo, nothing philo-
sophical, something that murmurs about a tiny insect, and
destruction, in all of the land, in all of the land. What comes
premature, herald of the natural me, strong and the heavy jolts,
I face another moment's turn to demon speak. Long dead tales...
Tipon, metamorphosis February 2019.
Written by
Tipon
20/M/Netherlands
(20/M/Netherlands)
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