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Feb 2021
She spins a web
Like a clock
Flow and ebb
A prudent stock
it does not confound
With time
A truth is found
With rhyme
With reason
Blood on her hands
Another season
******, it stands
A game; check and mate
Gone once again
Silence, no debate
Just another 'friend'
An absence of notion
Perpetual motion
Lost inside
No self to confide
A storm in the ocean
badwords
Written by
badwords
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