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by
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Unnamed
Poems
Mar 2014
She Sings
With trees among the bodies of dead.
Empty,
Gone,
Trying.
With no hope the grass weeps for her voice.
Late,
Never,
True.
The worlds miss your artwork.
Beauty,
Honor,
Talent.
But for time and tears will never coax her back.
Written by
Unnamed
America
(America)
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,
irinia
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