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Ingrid Midd
Poems
Jun 2018
Ensnared
Frying pan to fire,
Escape into a trap,
Of course the grass is greener,
'til you stop and lay your hat.
She monitors your phonecalls
and every move you make -
You will always say it's greener
In your prison with no break.
Written by
Ingrid Midd
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Rick the shoe shine boy
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