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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Tribute >> ID #1081236 |
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And here I am just another stain in time waiting for the harvest
Words dressed in a dusty leather cape, Marching in the ranks of the unknown Words that get tilled into the soil along with the sweat from the laborer’s brow, where they are both forgotten Words written on the husk of the corn Words that get consumed by the fire, Words that get broken along with the stone.
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