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Aug 2014
These little children
Run through my head:
Nameless, naked
Bare to the bleached bones
Mouths agape
Hungering for meaning and
Eating it up like air
Screaming and clawing
In the dead of night
Pleading for light
And a home to stainβ€”
So I fed them paper
And they left my brain.
My love-hate relationship with poetry.
steven
Written by
steven
399
   --- and Jo
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