Author: Duckula


Standing here infront of meRuby is stillEverything I long to beNeither buried by triumphOr drowned...

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This Trophy

I’m told at twenty-eightI should try to embraceA way to start shavingWithout scoring my face Just the same at eighteen years oldMy left hand won’t do as he’s told I stumble on pavementsI walk into walls I fell...

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