treat me (wrong or right?)
Course of Lightning
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traces of a feather,
barking- perhaps gliding against
it. oh it,
as you visualize but cannot grasp;
as you speak but cannot have.
beyond reality
you are;
as oxygen descends from hell
thus there's no longer a right bell.
cravings don't stop
and nor do you.
- poem by beautifulove 2014
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