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T R S
Poems
Sep 2019
Just one minute
Just taste the hesitation
Out of all the kurfuffle
Out of air, we've stuffed
Our own misplacen muffler
Half full of air
and half full of horrorshows.
So, seemingly
Lately,
Steamingly,
As of late.
Make maiden mating hatred.
And hold a hoard of hellhole ears against the hard of hearing.
It's searing molten gold,
the type of metal that showed how
showers of sparks
showed us how hate and hearts can hold us hostage.
Written by
T R S
29/M
(29/M)
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