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Lens of Passion

Of Nature Forest Feathers fall in the forest, through the cracks of the early morning sun, footprints buffered by waves that hit shore- they too fade, for like seasons that flitter past the underbelly of a tomb, she weathers it all, weighed down with armour, past the- obscene feathers glistening with an acid curling of poisoned dreams Those doors locked shut should never be opened, the st