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Isobel Webster
Poems
Mar 2018
Out of Date, Expired
Crying,
deep, gutteral, gnarled crying,
ugly and cracked,
broken and chaotic,
forced up by my heart [sense of betrayal],
lodges itself in my throat.
Left so unjustly done,
stood up and abandoned,
because it was hung from a rope and left to rot.
For twenty three hours and forty five minutes.
Taunted.
And yet,
it feels
nothing.
My paper heart can feel Nothing at all.
Written by
Isobel Webster
Australia
(Australia)
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