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Apr 27
the way that children run
fleeing the crest of a wave
even in their most invincible state
they couldn’t be touched by the depths
and so it goes
I notice their eager screams of delight
striding toward the thing they most dread
the man with spear in hand
claiming the dirt beneath his feet
does he know it will someday claim him?
I’ve come to crave the fragility of it all
Written by
triggerword  21/F
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