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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#16411voted by our readers
By Jenniebean BRONZE
Brooklyn, New York
If the wind were to blow, There would be nothing left. Nothing left of this cold, cold stranger Living in me. If the tides were coming to shore, They would swallow me, Swoop...
Brooklyn, New York
If the wind were to blow, There would be nothing left. Nothing left of this cold, cold stranger Living in me. If the tides were coming to shore, They would swallow me, Swoop...