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from Apparition Poems: 1558
Adam Fieled
This
is meant to be
level on level, layer
on layer, like insides
of mountains, but I
only have so many,
& when something
takes over, I drop a
little lower, my guts
drop too, and days I
could reach out for
you have gone. Well,
I call that level hell.
//
Advance //
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