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poem
Category: Writing and Poetry
the smoke surrounds a little bird a world of infinite colors and words machines are dilated, so are my eyes the creation clogs up the skies the sun sets, what's on her mind? what does she tell the moon when they meet at night? centuries of aching destruction, our home has become nothing, but, still; the sun ponders with rage, and, our home remains ablaze. the sun, in spite unhinges her jaw, and de... » Continue Reading