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Carry On

Look at it
The creature is moving
The movements are rhythmic
The mimic impostor
She owns the world
She owns the filth of it
She owns the mire.

What is it?
The outline is clear
The shading needs work.
The curves move
It dances
It finds out routines
It plays the Piper

Find her
Fix her
Don’t lose her
Don’t break her
Find her
Fix her
Forgive her,
Maker.
Written by EslieAnna (The Ill-Made Muse)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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