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Mar 2019
Stepping out on the ledge
that held him with a weak and trembling grip,
his eyes were filled
with the future

Lucid lights painting ribbons through the sky,
tracing the frantic motion
of masses lost,
in a rush to nowhere

Entranced by the spectacle,
eyes yellow aglow,
he ceased to notice
the grounds growing tremor
Written by
More Love
115
 
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