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About This Poem
Chosen
I do not want to go through this
It is like walking in the icy rain
I am staring in the sun without sunglasses
Something to deviate from my pain
Ivy continues to grow on my house
While I just sit and watch
It is starting to take over
And, no one hears my screams
Sleep is my rescue
Night is my reprieve
This is my life chosen now
But, how did I get here?
Better yet, who will set me free?
Holly P. Moore
October 2012
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