Words,
torn to shreds like paper
and torched just the same.
Words,
taught in classroom filled with little kids
with pencils and paper and dreams.
Words,
are only words without an eraser
like a dagger,
is only a dagger without regret.
Counting Time #7
Minute goes by minute
-- tiny minute fractions
of the day by long slow day
I scratch off my calendar.
Why
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