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Rated: E · Poetry · Personal · #1946857
I grow inside this summered skin. Vintaged though visceral. Experienced yet experimental
What strangers shadow do I cast
From shoes now gloriously overfilled?
The soulless survivor of a nervous wreck
The killer and the killed
My start ,departed parts he hid
Or failed to harvest in days behind.
Fortune , rightly and with insight
Incited undefinable redefined.

He who went , well at least
Left a lifetime of life and times
Memory meat completely neat
Was once his, now is mines.
Not one ounce shed for his leaving
Yet, profit I from dormant deeds
I am what I was to become
I'll reap what he sewed with my seeds.






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