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T R S
Poems
Mar 2018
Pesticide is love that tried, tired.
I think I saw a cockroach underneath my sink
I wanted him to die
But it made me think
Think about what life means.
Meaning.
What is meaning.
He or she is not so bad
How he or she just lives.
Living is a struggle.
Living is a shiv in the ribs.
Written by
T R S
29/M
(29/M)
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