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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#342871voted by our readers
By Anonymous
When thirty seconds have ticked by I will have learned to die. The voices, pounding in my head, tell me that I must be dead. And within my hand I hold a flower Sequined with a...
When thirty seconds have ticked by I will have learned to die. The voices, pounding in my head, tell me that I must be dead. And within my hand I hold a flower Sequined with a...