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Brady Johnson
Poems
Feb 2012
Some of the People, All of the Time
Not again
This always happens.
It's become the air that I breathe
They take the breath right out of me.
I sit to hide
Hide from the metallic screams.
I pray it will end soon
Remnants of their actions plague the earth.
Now let me tremble
Let me escape this hell I feel.
I will reconcile the injustice of their neglect
I won't go quietly, give in to you.
Written by
Brady Johnson
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