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Nov 2014
There are echoes in stones
what they have seen.
How is it that you can dream
and keep tearing my skin from bones?

No one can stand anyone else
I am not an island
but a tired and sagging sack
patches upon patches
stitch me up again
Here I am, it is time to begin.
Ann Beaver
Written by
Ann Beaver
298
   T and life's jump
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