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Swan Song of the Flightless Bird
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Paramour
Washed up,
worn down, tired, youth.
Hollowed out shell,
visible scars from their use.
Bled until dry,
Still manages to cry.
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About Me
Ophelia
I'm not really here, nor am I meant to be. I'm a dream and a drifter, among other things. As for people,well, they always wake.
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