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If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

10 poems·Since April 2016
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Lead

April 5, 2016

The bullet in your heart,

The color on your walls

A poison painted art.

There when the Empire falls

Nought to be blamed but me

A cold metal toxin

Forced to not unsee

The affliction beneath the skin.

Though I’ve brought color

And guarded against ill

My usefulness is pallor

I hurt against my will.

Do not allow me in

I am as heavy as my sin.

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