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Nora
Poems
Jan 2015
Lunch
I remember dreading afternoons with empty stomachs.
Where we’re forced to be in each other’s faces and shove our mouths with lies and stop ourselves from breaking out the truth.
The truth that we’d rather suffer through wars within than find peace in each other.
The truth that we've gotten skilful in reconstructing our masks among others.
We've gotten ugly and our eyes will never meet.
Written by
Nora
23/Mars
(23/Mars)
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SPT
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Jamie King
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