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Mar 2020
Insect-like we squash our lives
Into a few summer seconds.
We flit, we swarm, we hop
From a branch, a stem
To a prettier flower
Where we drink the nectar
Or drown in it.
The ******* cat
Plays with us
Tears off our wings
Spits us out
And just before we die
We dream of flying
Into a naked light.
Written by
Christopher Elwell
35
   Fawn
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