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Lucey Snyder
Poems
Mar 2010
*Squeak*
An elevated surface, a pulpit so to speak
This stage that chains so many
And makes them all but meek
With feet made out of iron
Redness creeps into the cheek
Every exit curtained in a cage
I stand atop a lowly stage
And pray my lines don't squeak
Written by
Lucey Snyder
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Lucey Snyder
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