Peggy

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  • Sadness

    Peggy

    No longer will
    she feel the pain
    of this unforgiving world.
    She no longer feels
    the same pain a mother
    dose when there own flesh
    and blood dies before them.
    Now she can dance along
    the rays of the moonlight
    with her pride and joy
    that was once taken
    so long ago.

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    Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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    honeysuckel’s Poems (10)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Black Mirror 0
    Narration, a dangerous game 0
    Waiting River 0
    The Truth 0
    Peggy 0
    First Aid 0
    Jewel 1
    Safe 0
    No Meaning -1
    Spitting Fire 0