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Psych-o-rangE
Poems
Jan 15
Slipped
A song
A birthday
A book
A person
A love
A trust
A future
A memory
A minute
The point to this-
Fingers of death reach to cover my eyes, touch my cold face, and envelope the memory of all that slipped away.
All I can feel is hands.
How I feel when I forget the next song I want to play
#pain
#memory
#loss
#death
#cold
#face
#hand
#touch
#trust
#vain
Written by
Psych-o-rangE
24/M
(24/M)
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