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Claire Prins

Ghostly Eyes

The ghostly eyes Of the moon peek through Branches of trees. Murmurs of my forgotten Histories swirl and Dance, gently Caressing my hair and Coaxing me along.

I race, I run For the thrill of it. I wave at stars And scream At the moon to Come get me! Bring me away with you!

Giving no-name boys No second glances, Shining, shimmering, furiously myself, I own the night.

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