This is my hand,
A band of light,
And life drawn out,
Upon my sleeve,
This is my heart,
My work,
My stife,
I know its hard,
To believe,
I am endless as the night,
A photocopiers,
Sad fright,
And all the while,
A plane goes down,
And i stick my hand,
In a photocopier
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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