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I wonder if death
takes us to the sun...
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I can see the black forest
deep-rooted inside you...
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you cup soft breath in your palms,
offering it to the stars as an exchange...
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Roses in your stiff hands
melt my heart...
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The gales howled down
out of my house...
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My eyes are tired from watching
this poor excuse of a leader...
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You smell of scorched bushes,
and you thought of stars as poets...
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We were everywhere
and now we’re nowhere...
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Pieces of my mind float down around me
I see myself in the shadow of where I’ve been...
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It’s been a while...
my eyes have gotten used to seeing...
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this is an attempt at a spoken word piece, wrote...
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The shattering
continued today...