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guy scutellaro
Poems
Nov 2020
long fallen trees (you)
build my gallows
build my gallows high
blood moon, fire red
no gentle breeze
not a flower in your bed
the echo of rocks
from your fingertips
a roll of the dice
in your eyes
no flowers or the sun
a roll of the dice
and i'm gonna run
build my gallows high
with long fallen trees
in ragged, wind blown skies
build my gallows high
Written by
guy scutellaro
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victoria
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