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Cradle of words
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To The Devil
The horse had been saddled up for the race, the rider took on the leash full of grace, blended with the leather, and heathen the long...
Random Pulses of the Commotion
Wings high above in the sky, the thrust of the engine and clouds starts to fly, you sit idle in search for a moment, all that ever man...
A poetry blog, for the not so poet in you
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