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Ten Years from Now

Suddenly I knew
    where Jack Frost hides during the summer seasons;

with death.

Funny how wr
    -ong all those personifications are.
Just as Truth,
    you wouldn’t recognize him if he
raped you.

Ten years ago we stood this spot,
    a spontaneous choice of solitude over prom.
    Little did we know, clenched sand held
          searing departure.

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