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Harvest

I'm sick of waiting for the click-clack of train tracks to carry this heavy load,
It's cargo it never knows,
Met a stranger once,
Running to catch up at a crossroads,
Tail tucked between his pitiful, shaking legs,
While the gallows gave chase,
Hounds sniffing for a trace,
Only to be met with the tears of a summer rain.
Written by thealbinorhino (James Dante)
Published
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