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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#464711voted by our readers
By bwoodchick2 BRONZE
Otis Orchards, Washington
Here I sit with her lying in my hands, Her plastic ripped at the hand of a mans. That man will never feel guilt, or sadness, While I sit here dwelling on the madness. Torn by...
Otis Orchards, Washington
Here I sit with her lying in my hands, Her plastic ripped at the hand of a mans. That man will never feel guilt, or sadness, While I sit here dwelling on the madness. Torn by...
