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May 2014
With deep decaying grievous withdraw,
i stand a withering wall of dust and straw.
Passing moments, brutal wasting.
Apparent from the start but intangible to the  heart.
Ticking and tocking the baby asleep rocking, the bird in a tree
and the bee in a flower. To soon
I remember when smells lost their taste
and
when April showers brought May's waste. To June
Black
Written by
Black  24/M
(24/M)   
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