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Dude...this one:
The Murder of P. Conrad Farnslow
Cold hands curled, blue
from the frost of March’s mist,
his blind eyes locked on nothing at all.
The cruel grimace
of the unavenged froze in the criss-cross shadows
of long dead limbs.
What happened doesn’t really matter.
He was unloved
Is fantastic....Bravo
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Holding onto anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. - Buddha
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