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Oct 2019
display to me
the barren shore,
and leafless birches
outside my window pane.

The heavens are smoky,
perhaps ash from the factory,
a vacant lot depleted.

Steets have a lunar hue-
my face twisted by the harsh eastern wind,
a forgotten memory
as bodies grow limp.

i am aware of the bleakness.
the stark reality of silence.
T daniels
Written by
T daniels  28/M/hudson nh
(28/M/hudson nh)   
143
   Cné
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