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Poetry
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| Keys | |
| By Matthiasrising | ||
| 29 February 2008 | ||
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Delusions of grandeur can be a fun and addicting thing. Slapped in my palm: Scratched and worn brass. A ring of all the keys to life. A door. One solitary door. The key falls to the floor. The one door. The entry. An opening is a closing. One start is another finish. Maybe leaving was best. Maybe it was my way Of saying it's over. Thus completes yet another sad story.
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