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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#153331voted by our readers
By Anonymous
I’m seventeen and here is my father, standing in front of me in the sunken shed. He doesn’t see me. He shouldn’t be here. His eyes crimson, his veins taught, his fingers tr...
I’m seventeen and here is my father, standing in front of me in the sunken shed. He doesn’t see me. He shouldn’t be here. His eyes crimson, his veins taught, his fingers tr...