This isn’t Poetry
when i am awaken in the middle of the night
[always at 3 am] by bad dreams or cats jumping
on me, i am comforted by visions of ghosts at
my bedside, staring down at my inactivity and
ridiculing me: that men can sleep and experience
the luxury of nightmares while thousands are
tortured by their government’s callousness, by
imposed
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so your starting a party you say?
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