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Apr 2019
death is a carousel
spinning; like the uneasiness
i feel as you calibrate
a bracelet towards my narrow wrist
with wooden horses as beads
while our gentle hands hold like nylon

it continues as the gears
like the choices we make
dance to the looped circus music
the acid in our stomach
react as we gallop through tragedy
just then we realize
if one of us steps down
the ride would be fun no more
but darling
it is timeΒ Β 
the coin has taken its toll.
Written by
pioneer  20/M/PH
     derailed-trains, Fawn and Jules
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