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poems&stories
The Keyboard Of Grave
The long gated frame so old and dusty,
keys black or white it follows your fingers left to right,
every sound and key you hit pleases the sound of free,
every human can hear those keys play through time they say,
the lows and highs are waves to are life's bad or good,
its all going to be alright,
through those keys they play you will be free,
oh please rest in peace as those keys go to rest,
for the next day.






 
 
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