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Nov 2014
low
a special kind of succinct sadness
toil the night long, until day breaks
and eyes water in mourning windy gusts
the river froze over, lose control of you
carried over thresholds in collapsed houses
feeding into tributaries of the soul
through the trees that kiss the sky
or past placid cars in aluminum nooses
needing more

but no end.
Reece
Written by
Reece
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