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Ayn
Poems
May 2020
Notepad 9
The mime drowsily stumbles,
Now awakened from his dream.
All that’s left is the silky memory
Of his imagination’s devious scheme.
The silver sunset awaits his arrival,
So he gallops onwards into nightfall.
I forgot the number. EDIT: it was actually #9 not #8.
Written by
Ayn
20/M/Wherever I May Roam
(20/M/Wherever I May Roam)
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