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Sep 2014
Spilled off the page,
There in the grass.
All the a’s, b’s, c’s
Lay alone.
The words spun around my head and
Helped me forget
All the things I hate to think of.
Spread out across the leaves,
My imagination
Lay alone.
And cold.
So I picked back up the
Letters
And words
And sentences,
Till they formed
Back together again.
poetrygod
Written by
poetrygod
206
 
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