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Apr 2013
Feathers falling, flailing fast
As if they are dense
Like the star you fill up
Or that fills up you?
She can't tell the difference.

This bird struts pink skin
For all to see
How thin her neck seems to be
She looks around,
"Did you blow off all my feathers
because I perfectly blew off your ****?"
But all that was left of him was the smoke
Ann Beaver
Written by
Ann Beaver
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