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Andrew Robertson
Poems
Jun 2014
The Screech
The screech grows louder
every moment I sit here
listening to the voices in my head
arguing about nonsense.
An hour is as a minute
and the room slowly fades
away until all I'm left with
is that abominable screech
yelling at the raging
voices in my head.
My right eye is bloodshot
and ready to POP
as the pain worsens and the
blood starts leaking out
and all I want to do is go home.
Written By:
Andrew D. Robertson
Written by
Andrew Robertson
Iowa
(Iowa)
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and
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