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sandra wyllie
Poems
Apr 2019
***** Rats
The world is a bunch
of ***** rats holding fast to
their scraps, engraving them with
their initials. Giving a speck,
expecting a bushel. And then
disparaging those that have more. That’s
how it goes when you’re looking for
compliments under a lamp light
that isn’t your own. Into the cold night
you ***** rats lose sight of anything
you can’t get your hands on.
Written by
sandra wyllie
56/F
(56/F)
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