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Never Quenched.


Poisoned trappings wrapping garish voices,

Around the openings that stretch endless

Prodding my expensive yesterdays,

While I regret, I regress

In a Futile fugue against the grays,

A challenge to the fading grace

That has conscripted my lot,

Taking all of what I got.IMG_3561

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Categories: Drawing, WritingTags: , , , , , , , , ,

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