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Abbott J Hardison
Poems
8h
The Glass
I drove my fist through the facade,
I had to do it or I'd fade,
I longed for my own face.
Staring back from the mirror,
That is me, no? Tis a ghost,
One putrid man I used to know.
He loved the music,
And refused to face it.
So I sang him a lullaby,
As the glass around him,
Shattered.
We must be the best version of ourselves to get the best results. Have a good one folks!
Written by
Abbott J Hardison
15/M/Rochester NY
(15/M/Rochester NY)
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