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RhetoricDecember. Winter condenses Into a language that’s never native. Night wraps me in Like a blanket. My dreams Are never polished. So I wake up, Take a shower, & keep my blood Updated. Snow is the last Refrain of my name, & I’m younger Than the melting of my fear. Those lonely despairs enjamb & Break. – How do I Compose my traumas; How do I analyze my brightest pains – Stormy, I grow up to be: Wind crushes into my water Like a quote. I learn the meaning Of it, & I still want to Rephrase the coldest month of my lines.
2021.11.20
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