Poetry

You’ve come back again looking for the weeping girl with braids you most likely  have a better phrase or feel more prepared to deal with sorrow she’s still gone i put her in a bar she is older …

I have decided  that my life is her dare. One that I shout fuck  against in this  thawing month that weeps like a wet corner of bread, stupid flesh that I am  decided to fail. Who  am I to press …

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