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T R S
Poems
Sep 2019
Bad Gamble
Holding, from tearing apart.
A bridge of angels was a pin of crystal air.
A nail made of modest minds
A pin that held what's where.
Even still
hope was what was
and I never had to be.
But sir.
SIR
It all collapsed.
And I can no longer see.
Written by
T R S
29/M
(29/M)
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Lemongrab
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Bogdan Dragos
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