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  • Anger

    Untitled

    As my hourglass slows down
    All I can do is frown
    I have twisted thoughts in my mind
    And insanity is all I find
    I hear the sirens down the road
    And I have nowhere to go
    I look at my bloody hands
    For I am a disgrace to man
    The body is stuffed in the closet
    As for the evidence—I lost it!
    They break down my door
    And I lay on the cold hard floor
    I put my hands on my head
    Wishing that I was dead.

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    Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

    Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

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