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John Destalo
Poems
Jun 2020
the end of numbers
I was nevermore
living in less than
I could not feel
in the dark
the walls were
made of smoke
you did not
build me up
the way others
did for their
sons
I never had
that secret image
of myself
that made me
believe I could
be better than
the cards I
was dealt the
sad secret is
I never learned
to count
Written by
John Destalo
55/M/Harrisburg, PA
(55/M/Harrisburg, PA)
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