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Jul 2015
Blackened with weeks old mud
Through the wilderness
Cuts, bumps, lumps
As the child cries
Without a care
For any state of mind
It may be anywhere
Wrapped up in a tourniquet
Sprung in curlicue skies
Pink and blue cotton
Parades in my mind
Tiptoes so quietly
Now a thunderous cry
Silly stories
Fake lies
Crooked grins
Pour me the gin
I need to be pacified
Rachel Lyle
Written by
Rachel Lyle  27/F/VA
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