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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#309341voted by our readers
By Anonymous
The trees become naked, As the leaves fall. My face still burns, Though I will stand tall. The wind beats upon my skin, Tickling the hairs on my head. Our howling extinguishe...
The trees become naked, As the leaves fall. My face still burns, Though I will stand tall. The wind beats upon my skin, Tickling the hairs on my head. Our howling extinguishe...