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Sep 2011
I haven’t seen you in years,
Those scarred and tampered eyes
            tells me, pain is near.
      Red and bloodshot,
   bitten down nails,
      cig pale,
Stress.
      Outside,
   at the park,
      you seem so dark.
    The sun turns away,
Your hair sure does look nice
After all of these long years.
Hank Roberts
Written by
Hank Roberts  30/M/Portland
(30/M/Portland)   
386
 
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