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Jun 9
As my back rests against the wall, I lift my fabric slowly and let it fall
Slid down and listened to dust hit the ground
Watching specs float like space, a new frontier
Let it fall, gravity run and dry these two blunt tears.
Cradled by soundful quiet, an octave below measure
As the dust writes my ledger, a lesser letter
To those who miss the Hidden Jester
Written by
Markie Waters
238
 
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