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A Victim’s card
Nothing is parallel or can be paralleled
Even when it is compounded, and expounded inside
It rages loud but gently in rib cages,
Behind hushing skinny fingers
Its beauty is too great, its beauty belongs to us
The formers, the creators of this place
We are the damned, we were the great
Oh the facade, it is all a facade they mimic the art
But can you take the cut, bleed ...
Wednesday 1st August 2018 3:14 pm
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