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Bre Shaw
Poems
Jan 2014
Itchin'
Throw the wind this way.
Point one way with one hand,
and take mine with the other.
Bring me home to your mother.
I'll wear a dress,
But I confess,
the dirt on your face
makes me hate lace.
**I'm just itchin' to be free.
Written by
Bre Shaw
Chicago
(Chicago)
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