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The Noose
Poems
Dec 2018
The hurt
When I pray
I smell mother on my words
And I weep
Her voice lives in the spaces
Between the words I utter
The resonance
Sometimes, l
I am afraid to speak
In fear of what will wake.
Written by
The Noose
32/F/Standing on the gallows
(32/F/Standing on the gallows)
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