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Aug 2014
On this cold reclining chair;
On this white paper sheet
With its sterile static-cling
I wonder:
Could they bring forth
Enough of me, and of us,
To send some other man,
In some other world,
What we were and what we had?
Could I bleed my love into a bag?
Written by
Matt Geary
688
   AJ and betterdays
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