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RMatheson
Poems
Jan 26
Green Hell
How could it not be
that this branch
I've clambered out onto
would hold me,
but instead it lured me
false pretense
to climb further out
until it has now snapped
dumping me
into the carnivorous jungle
below.
Written by
RMatheson
Beating tired bones
(Beating tired bones)
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64
Immortality
and
Ben Noah Suri
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