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red is a powerful thing

red is sabine larga’m bouncing off the walls around me, it’s the inability to control my body’s necessity to move - my hips my shoulders my neck my toes it’s powerful red is sweet italian summer peaches drizzling down my mouth, it’s the fading light of my marches sunset Deep - in the countryside Red is my morning; the flag outside my window blowing red at my half asleep eyes, jolted awake when finding the source of the jagged red shadows crawling on my city’s pavements Red is running through my veins

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