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years of sand
washed up on beaches
formed into castles
by hands
and run out again,
beauty temporary,
perhaps once only
.begin
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contents.
other entries
Untitled #12
in the moment
lost
Untitled #17
one last wish into the night
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Underwatertorch E.P.
My Definition of Summer
Too Big
Not of your design
Intro to Touché
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