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Crocked Ribs

They have command on me my posture has been so since birth and even now a grown up, no change The back has followed the legs are going there why can’t a guinea fowl produce penguins, swans? Why is choice in nature so elusive, so limited? Why can’t I become really what I admire in nature? I want to be free to be happy but I’m condemned to be a bent bow without arrows!

Copyright © | Year Posted 2017




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Book: Shattered Sighs