Metempsycosis
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WpMetadataReadComplete Tue, Nov 25, 2014<5 mins
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Poetry
The sounds of the past Awake in the sun Of my body. The Bear in the mirror Of my tongue roars And I am the roar Of the all bears. The sounds of the bear Bright in the eye Of my tongue, Because my lips are In the mirror.
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#235
esoteric
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