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About This Poem
My Inventory
She died of an overdose
Heroin, like spiderwebs
Separating millions of core-nerves
From reality-living neutral
Until coals revive blanc
Sorrows, child left behind
Awaiting distress
I found her flower etched
Jeans, in my office
I threw them into the trash
Her beauty crushed
What could have become?
What could have
Become?
12/03/11
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