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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Other >> ID #1803156 |
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Rain The flowers are wet. The rain coated them. In tears. Every daisy bows her head. Every Thorn looks for a victim. Still it rains. Like a leaky faucet, The sky drips uncontrollably. Ruination. Too much, it pours. Over the flooded dirt. Poisoning. For like all else Too much of a good thing Wilts dreams. 15 lines
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