Stretch your hands
You Get Mine.
Assurance, this much
For this time.
There are more--
Like dried dusted leaves,
Crackling
Clustering in my grip...
Loose my grasp, will I not.
It will blow away,
Strew all over
My dusted crackled assurances
You may find me
Through some other looking glass.
You may think me lying.
So
Assurance this much--
For this time.
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