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May 2019
The people in my class analyzed poetry
With finely sharpened pencils
And color coordinated pens.
                          I don’t understand.
                                          I thought poetry spewed from within,
                                          Without care,
                                          Out of necessity,
                                          Out of the need to rip the bullet from
                                          One’s heart,
                          Out of the need to
                          Save oneself.
This isn't super good, but I thought it needed to be said anyways.
Written by
Breanna W  18/F
(18/F)   
195
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