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Rated: E · Poetry · Opinion · #1610379
a poem about my past struggles
The moon
shines down on my face
Stretched out
I lay in the soft grass
Nevermore
will my past kill me
If only
that was as true as this
The chilly night
makes me feel at home
as the wind
whispers across my face
For now
my worries are like the distant sun
shining
far across the country
not here
where my worries are no longer
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