I read your book
And I find it strange
That I know that girl and I know her world
A little too well
And I didn't know
By giving my hand
That I would be written down, sliced around,
Passed down
Among strangers hands
Three days in Rome
would
worst
where
waste
voyeur
hands
written
giving
write
thief
around
carry
again
words
happened
everything
alone
always
between
among
stand
little
world
three
passed
paper
remember
strangers
never
sliced
strange
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