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Thomas Newman Poem
Voices scream like cockerels' within the farm of my mind
Awake again. should I even bother opening my eyes?
Maybe if I dont, the day wont have to start.
I roll out of bed into consciousness.
Coffee. Black like my mood.
Nicotine and coffee are good ammunitions.
How many hours till sleep?
Copyright © Thomas Newman | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Thomas Newman Poem
Tutting. The old lady's switchblade. Like Moses she parts the youth creating a much justified path of way. Must be respected like an old antique. Manners are for the weak. Public transport is her domain.
Copyright © Thomas Newman | Year Posted 2020
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Details |
Thomas Newman Poem
Screams upon screams
Noise upon noise
Can't sleep again
These are the joys
Fancy a break?
Just take a pill
I'll probably work
lol Mentally Ill
Copyright © Thomas Newman | Year Posted 2020
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