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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1353946
I smoke, and think, and grieve.
Things I lashed together fall apart
Small things, meaningless things
Gather around my ankles
I build new structures
on ground made unstable by the loose pieces
The mournful strains of Sam Beam
fall on the room
And I'm alone even though I'm not alone

The snow falls
my ashes fall
and I don't know which is which
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