Genocide The noose still hangsWhere the lonely man criedHe strung it up thereAlong with his pride The pistol residesAlongside the bedWhere the beaten down boyLost his last thread The razor still hidesNext to the sinkWhere the scared little girlPressed down far too deep The bottle lay shatteredUpon the tableWhere the confused womanConfirmed her new
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Comments 4
I love writing poems too
It gets all the anger and depression outside
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