This Is Our Time

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Drift away, the burdens sigh.
To find a new person who lay beside,
Piper Rose, cliche name,
But she is the best at her game,
Truant in most cases,
But they call her "A Race"
Because she is caught up with herself,
Without a trace,
Of notes or clothes she left behind,
Women of America,
THIS IS OUR TIME.





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Ella1 said...
Jan. 13, 2012 at 5:01 pm
Interesting poem, I like you're style! Would you mind reading my poem A Pink Watch, Portal, and Perpetual Sea if you get a chance and tell me what you think? Thank you!
 
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