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he tends to pretend

he can See the mountains eroding

and his ears, they can Hear

each breeze screaming over the seas

sometimes he reminds me

of the blistering rays the sun used to send

to heat the beating hearts

of those who pretend.

To remember is to lose them all over again.

this monotony has Her teeth in me and

cuts straight to the bone


leaks from open wounds

shaken loose from the cold

Her apathy rapidly grows

is it me

waking from stasis

with a howl in my throat

echoing through their graves

dampening winter coats?

is it me frozen in the snow?

and if so

i would give anything

to be left alone

to finally see

the Mountains erode.

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