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All The Poems I Wrote

Poetry

If grief were a poem, your heart would be the lover.

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mother?

8 4 2 
                                    

                                              
until I score big and do my bed, mother? 
why is your love biased? 
storms one day, drains the another–
why's your love so scarce mother?  
till I look pretty but not as exquisite
Mother, why's your love so hateful?
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