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One More Step
The lost live in another world,
their tragedy is stitched togethere
by the hands of our silent god, and
seperation,
isolation,
confindement,
and a painted white door
that has blood on it, your
blood, my blood, still he keeps
his silents, , , and me, i walk
to the edg, look down, and
wisper one more step, just
one more fu cking step.
poem
by
David Gerardino
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