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Emily Jones
Poems
Apr 2014
Mess
My eyes are like dried fruit left to rot
Burning, and itching
From emotional cast off
Plugged to the nose with emotional recess
Head hammering the strangeness felt
At least in sleep I can escape this **** up mess
Written by
Emily Jones
25/Cis/NORTH LITTLE ROCK AR
(25/Cis/NORTH LITTLE ROCK AR)
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