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Friday, August 14, 2009
wind.
even the breeze,
light as a hello kiss,
comes to a halt. and the air is still.
no sound.
and suddenly we hear our own heartbeat in our ears
and notice our breathing.
I have grown weary of myself.
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youth.
from eric.
Joe Pug.
A Forest Hymn by William Cullen Bryant
wind.
No title
i love my sister.
Circumnavigate Intentionality.
Franklin Road Academy
If I am.
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jedidiah jenkins
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