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Aug 2
my memories are con men
spinning fibers into thread
for forging famous tapestries
sewn sweetly in sugars of lead-

smelting dead language
into covers for their feet,
they run through broken glass
just to hear a phrase repeat.
ATL
Written by
ATL  19/M/MA
(19/M/MA)   
  742
     Cyan, claire, Bret White, Luna, Brandy and 3 others
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