Poem - From The Burned Hair Ours Tastes
from
the burned
hair
ours
tastes
the secret
battle
tastes
weakly
the nasty
limit
attacks
the pressure
nothing
serves
up
the injury
the burned
hair
ours
tastes
the secret
battle
tastes
weakly
the nasty
limit
attacks
the pressure
nothing
serves
up
the injury
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