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Fri, 03/10/2017 - 17:11 -- Kate.N

The curtain has been hung,

tied,

and strung.

The masks has been beaded,

laced,

and covered with a face.

The parade has just begun.

The balloons float throughout the fair,

filled with hopes and cold, dead air.

“What more could there be?” you may ask,

until you turn around and let out a gasp.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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