i am the ugly,

of two daughters and tomorrow i must celebrate the 'getting older' that we all suffer, the dust of
everything settles upon the same,
wand that makes us move, the string that other people pull, plush pulse keeping us all alive
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fall over. the fun never ends.
wren.
fall over.

that smile (from here) looks like the clothes held up by an unhappy bird
living a blanket across the sky

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