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Inside...

my poets notebook, I open at time when wounds go deep. Words bleed on page covering sun wanting to come forth. They expand as versus cannot be covered by a simple bandied in mind. The puss like descriptive words like abandonment, lies and dis-enheridence burn, as they are released from heart to pen and pen to paper. Hurt from family seemed to have festered for a lifetime. as screams begging for clousure are shouted to be scribed. Slowly the mind quiets as its words are release and poem concludes. Perhaps they will shout in a readers eyes begging to be loved. Only time will tell.
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Written by
star-bg
66 / F / New York
Published
Jan 7, 2018
Lines·Words
13·105
Notes

Not every pome I write can be positive. Just going through some family issues. All meant to be as I grow and expand. It sucks.

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