Anny Barros
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Notes

❝These hands are trembling
as the wind runs through
my hair.
I bite my lips, think about this, my life;
maybe I am tired
of despair.

I understand I told that
for what it’s worth
I’d try.
But perhaps time does not heal
each thing, at least these wounds
won’t dry.

Now as I stand here on…❞


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