Ravings of a Poet
The poetry of Matthew O'Connor
Wednesday, December 22, 2021
Crashing
I feel the wind run through my hair,
And so I run with it.
We all run without a care
To a place, of which, no one's writ.
So calm the roars
Of brethren and friends,
And so strong, the scars
Don't aggregate, but end
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