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ian macleod
Poems
May 2018
sorry
We argue
She leaves
Not to come back
I drink
I think
I sit
I slit
but wait
A noise
The front door goes
My blood it's soaks
From the hall " babe I'm sorry "
To late to worry
I'm numb
Its cold
Sorry to late
Sorry to old
Written by
ian macleod
36/M/uk preston lancashire
(36/M/uk preston lancashire)
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Myrrdin
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