for everything that never was,
for miracles that never came,
for childhood by terror marred,
for shadow creep, and ruby stain,
for daymares and for friendless weeks
that stretch out to eternity,
there comes a time for packing up
your few last things
and nameless
need
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Tagged: Tags #June Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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