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Jul 2013
Beautiful destroyer.
Runaway Doves; stained clouding.
A beautiful woman, bittered by reality.
Fleeing this earth, dressed in black.
Reaching for the sky, for a clearer conscious.
Her relic soul, to be rested on the holy billows.
Going up in smoke, an Angel of Azure.
This one is to the Burning Tyres at The Factory.
Written by
lindisa mathabela  in my head
(in my head)   
701
 
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