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Castaway

In the deserted island of my mind,

cotton candy memories float by,

followed by fog and bomber planes,

raining shrapnel of a painful past

and Nostradamus future. 

 

I am tempted to retreat, 

among the trees, 

where no one can find me. 

Give up my majestic seat 

on the sandy shores of time. 

 

Boldly I remain, 

sheltered in plain sight,

like a hermit crab,

...

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