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my finger is empty.
  it echo    's
  all the things I cannot
      breathe into the deflated
      earth
  the rhythm teaches me
  to play
  my heartstrings
       with a bro ken pick
©2009 ~Sutcak
:iconsutcak:

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:iconascachilwen:
I particularly love the latter half of this poem.

--
Dig hard.
Dig deep.
Run for shelter.
Never look back.

Isaiah 12:2

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May 20
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