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All Deviations
All Deviations


Play the Flame

Your fingers survey
the traveling flame.
Curiosity gains,
your way of living pains.
Nevertheless, tragedy;
it is bound for our brave souls.
Ideals and Ideas craving
freedom of our lost consciousness.
Supposedly, you are innocent,
but all know—you are fanning the flame.
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Submitted: January 17
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Author's Comments

A poem I wrote for and about a friend. He's innocently guilty!
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