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Theodora Oniceanu
Poems
Jul 2021
I could have been the saintest saint
It would still mean what it always meant.
And the meaning of sanctity means a lot of suffering,
Don't scream, just take it nicely
Or shout and scream and be hated by the world.
Or loved... Only that, perhaps means more suffering.
May we suffer like loved Children on the field?
Protected.
Quite Yes was my answer!
So thanks!
To be mature
Was a gift
Only you wanted so much more
You wanted so much more than being the kid
Nobody cursed, nobody cursed.
Written by
Theodora Oniceanu
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