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Apr 2014
1.

Upon the last perch,
before the abyss

and the bliss
of a blackened Earth.

I stand pinned into
the soil and earth of
your words

I stand surmounted
By everything

Ropes and thistles
Those bitter brambles

Stuck, wrapped
and slit, trapped
beneath my skin

To prevent me
From falling in.
Culpoetry
Written by
Culpoetry  Britain
(Britain)   
492
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