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evolution of the kill

by Sherri

old souls polish glistened bones,
offering gifts to the rapture.
weary prayers fall on heavy feet.
the clouds crash like waves
revealing the cracks of heaven,
and in this moment
I am still
to let the dust settle.

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Saturday 7th December 2024 10:18 pm

poemoftheday   micopoetry   thinkofme

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