Poor Poets.
S
Sandra Feldman
0
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Poor Poets
All alone
In a world
Made out of stone,
Of blood, sweat
And tears,
Lies that even
Strangle,
Hope and Fears,
Love in tangles
Insincere,
As night closes in
With sadness
That sears,
That of being all
Alone,
In a World, where
All's gone wrong...
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