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Cesar Perez Mar 2015
The bird that sings in golden cage,
the wind substracts the pain inside.
Satsih Verma Mar 2017
Between the swaying palms,
moon was moving
in armada.

Why did you come
late, to whisper, of the
explosive explicit?

But for a lone
cry, I would not
take you.

The jewels were mine.
You had stolen
from my waistband.

It substracts the
stings from my
hobbling gait.

— The End —