Is It Poetry
A Touching Poem
Come soft words
I barely, liberaly use.
And either cup, I move aside
the worlds blown up.
Twin peeks colide, as rivers
run there course.
blown their, confide as well
could even more, be still upon.
Up and down the moving waves,
as music moves the shore.
When you do, your hand it moves,
I can not drink, but more.
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