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Oct 2010
I will dig into the deepest heap, where we left our subtle reminders
of fishing down by the desert
rose palm
long gone
and all in all
to bring up broken hands
the ones we wave with ,hello
a deep purple kind of yellow
treading torwards the light blue water
before I remember when it wasnt that light
the sun hits my eye's
slumber awakens those cries
that drip drop with my permanent happiness
somewhere
I'm unaware
midnight prague
Written by
midnight prague
609
 
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