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Tanisha Jackland
Poems
May 2017
In Spirit
I shaped him
created him out
of my own image
until he became this
most precious flesh
I didn't know of fate
and how it would claim
him over and over again
then I got it,
in the most
certain of terms
and it feels like a sentence
I cannot escape from
but more like a wound
I am a sorry wound
that desperately needs mending...
Written by
Tanisha Jackland
111/F/is still getting old.
(111/F/is still getting old.)
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Willy Shakysphere
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The Sick Red Carnation
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