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Jun 2015
I was given a gift; the gift of guilt.
To use freely and often.
I did. I do.
A member of the club that no one wants to join.

My gift is pretty
Dependent on words.
On thoughts.
On her, him, them.

On sticking plasters carefully stretched
Over still weeping wounds.
Quiet now.
Yet visibly hidden.
Sam Casey
Written by
Sam Casey  Ireland
(Ireland)   
721
   Dr Zik and Mark Lucatorto
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