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Dec 2020
She called out severally
And cried out bitterly
Wishing for a hand,
To untie the band.

The bars stood still,
And stole her skill
Leaving her in pain,
With nothing to gain.

Darts stroke her mind,
Deep enough to bind
And sculped her sight,
With strings of fright.

The past was awake,
Sharpening its old hake
And spreading its sheets,
Engulfing her in ****.
Don't be a prisoner of your past
Marilyn O
Written by
Marilyn O  F/Cameroon
(F/Cameroon)   
237
 
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