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Nov 2020
I hear you,
your sky is falling.

I wish it moved me to know that.
Prompted me to grab an umbrella to shelter you.

But, it seems like your sky falls every day.
I'm out of umbrellas.
They lay strewn around you,
while you hold your hands above your head,
preparing for bare knuckle assault.
Written by
dawnvisits
59
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