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Jun 2013
growing burdens perched on weary shoulders,
masks torn asunder,
gaping faces staring nakedly back,
hearts beating behind skeletal cages,
given as gifts to scorn the sages,
church organs beating in skin of palms,
abruptly ended clanging clash,
striking the keys one by one,
hoping one note would flash the lights,
pump blood back in
Christopher Ranieri
Written by
Christopher Ranieri  NC
(NC)   
477
 
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