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When the morn writes home.

Should it be written back?

After all, what is in a name?

What of the stray thread?

We find on the floor.

As one is spotted.

Soon,

several more.

 

Collecting friends,

until the end.

Unless their need necessitates someone to defend.

 

Complacency placid with the faceless poor.

Prior to the morn that writes no more.

hey say that time heals all things, they say you can always forget; but the smiles and the tears across the years they twist my heart strings yet! George Orwell
they say that time heals all things,
they say you can always forget;
but the smiles and the tears across the years
they twist my heart-strings yet!
George Orwell
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