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Tanisha Jackland
Poems
Apr 2019
Letter To A Modern Urban
We are in a sad state. The fires never wane and the smoke left to choke us, in our sleep, are out of control, suffocating. She was bleeding, wrestling with karma and the boogie man. Both are human, afterall; you can tell by all their naughty vices.
Letting his virtues go astray,
Bob
Written by
Tanisha Jackland
111/F/is still getting old.
(111/F/is still getting old.)
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