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by
Eliot
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Poems
May 2013
Buss
A wind glides across the brow
A cauterizing of the brain has begun
A cool rushes forth and fills the body
Lips bubble out no words
Sensations no longer linger
A solemn pit fills your heart
Silence fills the soul
Buss, we must.
Death is with us.
Written by
Anonymity
Texas
(Texas)
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