1 Poetry

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Mina Miryanova
Mina Miryanova 24 Dec 2012 Tag: strain

A ...am...

What am I the language of crushed beetles and stone, the pictures between horse’s mane, stuck on rabbit’s glue I want to be the painting, to be able to encase rain into eternal clouds, hold them in my eyes and feed your mind sun rays Instead I fold And starve...

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