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Jun 2014
Matchstick mayhem crumbled the frames
Sweet burning fodder for a heart of justice
and final tests and points of no return
Words slipping, shapened hotly by a fearful tongue
ghosts of meaning which can do so much
but cannot be undone
like water trickling on smoking rubble
as if steam and vapor would raise the doors again
My honest heart, a violent rising and falling of a phoenix
As cruel as plain words strike, she flew through hallways
lighting paintings and mirrors ablaze until
there was nothing left
No respite from the heat of pain, not yet
wait until I'm ashes on the ground,
wishing I could make it stop
They say the truth will set you free
But not until it's done with you
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