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A Self Portrait

I am not the empty vase

But the puddle leaking through

The floor boards

Falling into orbit 'round

The ominous glow of

Silver stars.

A communal solitude

Masquerading as a hawk

Architect.

An open leather bound book

Written in archaic hues

Red-orange.

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Published: Jul 16, 2013
LinesWords: 1242

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