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CCLI

January 18, 2014

As if the blinds were porcelain,
the light bursts inwards, scattering
sharp shards of gleaming morning sun
about the heavy plodding feet
of muffled souls in dressing gowns,
whose hearts erupt and faces burn
when plodding feet encounter shards
of light that lie like daggers on
the shifting pattern of the floor.

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