6 lines
347 B
Markdown
6 lines
347 B
Markdown
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Madame Martha had eight years before me blown away.
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Words scattered on Waco winds as posthumous wings, and with life,
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ceaseless. They fell like snow on two tonsured heads, hovering
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and near crashing over family found, her white-covered name.
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"Hi, mom!" dripped and became frost, and that was when I knew -
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you and I were always the same.
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