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Dave Williams
Poems
Sep 2018
the call
the sharp breeze
occurs to me
like memories
the light beams
reflect off of me
like teflon
and suddenly
the part of me
the things i say
the last scene
the end of me
come get some
the same strange, stupid stuff
you know you've done enough
when it stabs you in the back
the baggage
the damage
the call
Written by
Dave Williams
Johannesburg
(Johannesburg)
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Keith Wilson
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