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The hands turn over

The hands turn over,

Sands fall, scars fade,

Glasses runs empty,

Memories still remain.

They can lay in the weather,

Battle the storms,

Or hoist the sails off

To places held warm.

The ground will shake,

They’ll regain their legs,

But he won’t lose to pain,

No matter how hard it begs.

The places she chooses,

Delicate, desolate, or dirty.

As long as she’s there,

Is where he will be.

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