I know it’s
me — the people with
nerves — attacked by carts, wanting
to curl down and die.
American Culture, Death, Depression, Fear, Hate, Isolation, Poems, Poetry, recovery, Shadorma, Take Me To The Hospital
This entry was posted on March 11, 2017, 6:53 am and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0.
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