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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Personal · #611279
Make of it what you will!
And the sun
sickens,
coughing up
ashes
and eyes. You
are blind
and gladly benefit,
folding your
sore, scorched arms and
screaming
with dark elation.

It is over.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/611279-Cured