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The Minister's Lonesome Daughter

Sadie walks a fine line Sadie walks alone. Sucks a fresh lit cigarette beneath electric glow. Sunken cheeks and tear streaks shadowing her shame. Her eyes could paint a masterpiece in desperation's name. Bare feet scraping ashpalt, her shoes hang from her hand. There are no angels for this daughter of a holy man. She meets the eyes of passerby's then makes her way back home. Sadie will you ever sleep? Or will you always roam.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

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Date: 1/30/2010 7:53:00 AM
this preachers son likes this. john
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Date: 1/26/2010 11:49:00 AM
very hautnting poem, and makes you want to hug her!
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Date: 1/24/2010 4:04:00 PM
Beautiful, Kathryn! Life is twice as hard for the children of Pastors, especially in America's small towns! Great write! Goes to my favs.! Peace, Audrey
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Date: 1/22/2010 5:36:00 PM
I have enjoyed reading your poetry this evening Kathryn. I hope you have a wonderful weekend and that you find inspiration along the way. Love, Carol
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