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I sit, bare in underwear, amongst overgrown grass, sliding against my slippery calves; It will cling to my skin when I stand. Head tilted, to a grey glinting expanse of energy, Towards liberated memory Of all natural occurrences. They trickle down my temples, whispering to the past, “Yesterday I was a mere dew drop, Now hail my momentum and power”. I may be deaf to the drunk drum beat in the backdrop, But here I feel my own past cast off, Water shedding, relaying my skin. Whoever happens upon the milky figure, Will mistake my smile for a shiver; But pearls don’t chatter in a cold shell.
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Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 6:43 AM UTC
When The Rain Comes
I sit, bare in underwear, amongst overgrown grass, sliding against my slippery calves; It will cling to my skin when I stand. Head tilted, to a grey glinting expanse of energy, Towards liberated memory Of all natural occurrences. They trickle down my temples, whispering to the past, “Yesterday I was a mere dew drop, Now hail my momentum and power”. I may be deaf to the drunk drum beat in the backdrop, But here I feel my own past cast off, Water shedding, relaying my skin. Whoever happens upon the milky figure, Will mistake my smile for a shiver; But pearls don’t chatter in a cold shell.
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Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 6:43 AM UTC
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