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T R S
Poems
Jul 2019
Holiday
in the corners of your eyes
inside the corners of your eyes.
How held up had you felt to not rub the corner of your eyes?
How tired must you've been to sin so much?
and not even care enough
to rub the corner of your eyes?
The last of us is lies
and all we do is make cheap soap.
Our bloodiness only helps us die,
and with out good leaders we've lost all hope.
Written by
T R S
29/M
(29/M)
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