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ants in amber
What if the wheels stopped turning/ on an angry slope/ But there was no deathly plummet/ just a gentle exhale?
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grief is a thing
Grief is a thing that’s purring/ ever softly in the hole/ watching me without a sound/ waiting for dark to fall.
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A question
I’m on the edge today/ Teeth grinding/ Muscles twitching/ I’m more bobblehead/ than man today.
