InkA Poem by Veritasexlogos
Our arms
tangle like tribal tattoos that convey a people, our nationhood. Every pattern purposeful like smoke coiling from a well stoked pipe left to cool by the window. © 2010 Veritasexlogos |
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Added on June 5, 2010 Last Updated on June 5, 2010 AuthorVeritasexlogosWorcester, MAAboutMy attempts at writing are nothing short than me trying to figure out what exactly to put in this very box. more..Writing
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