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Today's poem #9——是瓦蓝的，斜上四十五度
是冬天来过，皲裂的肤纹
用创可贴作弃物
我忍住口中说出的话
在风里，它是暂时
迎着不确定奔跑的人
站在对面，熟悉又陌生
我指认自己的矛盾
也给嘶哑和重生作证
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