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Morning calm
A world of desperation.
The face and the faceless.
Indescribable yet on the tip of my tongue.
Impecability holds the key to power.
I stare out over the city on my park bench throne.
The morning hours calm my mind.
Crows speak in their own tongue.
I reflect on a night of dreaming.
The number is 4.
Time to let go of what I can no longer carry.
My saving grace is ...
Monday 10th June 2019 2:29 pm
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