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alyson
Poems
Aug 2013
how.
I can't decide
if I want to
die at an early age,
with the wind in my hair,
and pride on my chest,
as I breathe my last,
or die while rocking
on my favorite chair,
where I sang songs
with my grandchildren,
and fell in love every day.
Written by
alyson
hell
(hell)
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