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It Is
April 11, 2011
Hands
That glide and fade
Across
Around
Under
Down
I know that the shadow
Is merely an illusion
But it feels real.
And they walk
Sometimes
But mostly they sit
And they cry
Their tears
Turning into
Diamonds
Then they die.
It was all falsified truth
And it echoes
Empty
Blank
Why is it all so far gone?
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