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The color of Dusk When I was a child I wanted to tell the angels invisible in their gossamer dresses to shake loose the kernels of meaness from my tormentor's heart and feed them to the pigeons with purple breasts that hung out in the shady churchyard. I wanted to reach into the sky and eat the color of dusk for I was sure that I would turn into something graceful and shimmering as beautiful as the moon; not ready to believe that I was forever trapped in this deformed body my useless legs hanging, not about to run anytime, anywhere soon.
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