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T R S
Poems
Nov 2019
Take
I placed a well woven blanket on the edge of a window sill.
It was well made and warm.
I stormed apart because impactful starts had shorted out holy night.
I shared a napsnack of overdigested hellholes branded in fire patches.
It's ok.
I'm left forgviving hell in firepatches made of dust and stool.
Written by
T R S
29/M
(29/M)
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