Pull up a chair and relax. This is where I write, with my eyes. Stay as long as you like. You'll find me, where the wild roses grow ♥
it speaks in past tense
of room-and-pillar mines
lost youth and broken backs
long days of eternal night
echoes inside the earth
stains of labor/ etched on each vein/ now transmit some smudges of coal dust.
the tar babies
to rain with the way
with their backs
to the Sun
This is wonderful Diana x
Thank you sir x
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