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Apr 30
Sitting in a wake
you don't feel peace. The vigil
has a buzzing sound.

No benefit comes.
Your fingers speak for the broken
faith. Where gods sleep?

The candles in the wind
were blowing up at the bank
of the river, which had dried up.
Written by
Satsih Verma
  189
     Dust, Nylee and Jeremy Betts
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