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Literature Text
The beauty of heresy lies
in the words
withering on the vine
and all those sounds
I hear you
breathing under water.
I wait as
the chysallis of dawn
wears out its welcome,
skips the beating heart offered up
as ransom
and tries to make a home
somewhere
between your pages.
in the words
withering on the vine
and all those sounds
I hear you
breathing under water.
I wait as
the chysallis of dawn
wears out its welcome,
skips the beating heart offered up
as ransom
and tries to make a home
somewhere
between your pages.
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Comments24
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nice. (did you mean chrysalis?)