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nocturn

Our moon is a graveyard filled to the hilt With arriving guests, comets of verve and girth Gravemarkers are dug craters and pindropped rocks Catching souls from an Earth of birth Where did you draw the line for humanity? When did you choose not to say no? Beating the oceans with kid legs in a pool Our moon, Minister of Justice; what do you know?
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Written by
robert-c-ellis
Greenville, SC
Published
Mar 3
Lines·Words
10·65
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