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By skitzo_scribbler on 06/21/2017
Viewed: 51
Reviews: 0
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So. I died with Azariah
whom is now
1,460 moons

Yes my pen bled out over
Play pens and reciever blankets
Coveted toys my father couldn't affford
My words went fucking-off into
3: am's, and starving eyes.
And daddy day's never bored

I took and held notes
From toddlers, and Doctors,
Endless cartoons
And Sunday school
On 8-ounce-I-love-you's....

But I've never been called daddy,
I've never been needed so much
I never thought within me lived such
Unbudgeable, unkillable

So sleep my pen did,
Silence my muse knew while
whit'in every aha-moment
Collecting the voice my pen'd use
The next time I write


? By skitzo_scribbler On 6/21/2017 11:52:01 AM
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