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Richard Flappa

Rookie - 39 Points (NA / No Response)

Ghosts


I hear the banging from the other room—
It's my parents again.
Goddamn, how many times I have to hear this,
She is screaming now, oh my god.
The iron bed frame is scraping against the wall
Like that katana I bought from the renaissance festival
Last year

Submitted: Monday, July 21, 2014

Topic of this poem: ghosts


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