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RMatheson
Poems
Jul 2013
Delicate Sky
I spread gravel once
flat across a lawn...
wishing it was me.
I made a trash bag-wreath once
white-pure strips of plastic...
wishing it was me.
I looked up at the delicate sky
held in place forever
crying to be fleeting
trapped in existence: eternity.
I heard family ghost stories once
stained branches on family tree...
wishing it was me.
Written by
RMatheson
Beating tired bones
(Beating tired bones)
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maybella snow
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Alicia Strong
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