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Runaway MAG
We collected our footsteps on the way down
and in the midst of our hour of defeat,
we found a home in each other’s presence,
a rebellion in our quiet riot.
We watched our castles burn,
sparks and glitters turning to dust
(the way gold in a young child’s eyes would)
imagining they were the fireworks
strewn across our eyes’ sky
(knowing we would give anything just to run away)
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