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Feb 2018
They come and go
These horrible thoughts,
Not staying long
Never to be caught.
The thought police
Are grabbing and pulling,
There I stand a rusty shilling.
Twisted mind a tortured soul
I swim around my begging bowl.
The Ravens peck at my open eyes
A nightmare in which I live
Sometimes I wish that I could cry
My head is an open sieve.
Written by
Mark Bell  Portsmouth
(Portsmouth)   
188
   Lior Gavra
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