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Tonya Carpenter
Poems
Feb 2014
Killing Time
Each day is like an empty page
And you choose what to write
Your choice of story, art, or song
To fill its pages white
Thatβs what I told you, but you laughed
You said you saw no cause
To ponder foolish metaphors
Much less sit down and draw
And as I watched you walk away
I recognized your crime
You filled your page with glaring blanks
And called it killing time
Written by
Tonya Carpenter
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Alyssa Underwood
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