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Leah
Poems
Nov 2015
friday's migrane
I have already told you;
there are sleepless mornings
when I can taste
every poison lacing my cigarette
and I wouldn't mind except
for the way that they sift past
a throat already rubbed sore
from all of the screams kept silent inside.
Written by
Leah
I'm around.
(I'm around.)
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