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TomDoubty
Poems
Mar 13
Sisyphus
Walk the waking streets
In yawning air
Draw near, to my soft pacing
Turning in
Behind tear-filmed eyes
Now closed
Be still
And whistle in a breath
Taste indifferent air
Your fate held
A moment
There
Until the hour's redress
I onward roll my stone
Written by
TomDoubty
41/M/Oxford
(41/M/Oxford)
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