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Mar 2018
By myself for forty years,
Alone at home with my beers

An aged flask
A caged mask

Are we all just home alone between our ears?

In the silence of this room
My thoughts receed into the doom

Are we all just deaf and dumb?
A newborn cries for his mum.
My moody silent Sunday brood.
Written by
J Fletcher  40/M/New York
(40/M/New York)   
  258
   Presley
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