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Marsha Singh
Poems
Feb 2011
He thought I never listened
My father, in those moments
of what almost seemed like
hope for me,
would push back his cap,
tap his forehead and say
This is the only thing no one can ever take from you.
It's the only thing that's yours.
His brilliance was his only pride.
When I left his house,
I took only what was mine.
Written by
Marsha Singh
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