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jiminy-littly
Poems
Jul 2020
these are the souls
dickens might have complained
how unlucky
it was to be born,
poor, helpless, friendless, body-less
painless,
my lies lie with my sins
like white **** frost
trying to warm my heart
Written by
jiminy-littly
M/NYC
(M/NYC)
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Bogdan Dragos
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