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by n.lea Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Draft · Environment · #2290243
A titleless thought that swirls round and round
Our of sorts
And out of tune.
Fraying and snapped strings,
A burnt and groaning
Song she sings.
Trapped in rusted
Metal cages with
Doors on squeaking hinges.
Hangin from broken branches.
Swaying in the wild
Cold winter wind.
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