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Celestial
Poems
Sep 2020
The Itch
It is my Itch
Chip
Cold
THING on my shoulder.
Gripping it like a skeletal
Deathly
Dark
HAND of prosperity.
Pushing and pulling in hasty
Everlasting
Errored
DIRECTIONS for this life.
Making it the joyless
Frustrating
Fretful
ROAD I travel on.
Ungrateful words
Written by
Celestial
24/F
(24/F)
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45
KorbydAngyle
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