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Rated: E · Poetry · Arts · #1825688

about writing

The bones, half-buried in the past
Digging them up, I write through them
... Hurts
But I continue writing, releasing
Dark infused foul smelling smoky memories
Stifling gauze, my thoughts
I push past them
Reclaiming my voice
My gaze wanders
The view clears
I focus
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