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Karin Holloway


If my verse


If my verse were not grief born
I would not learn thru pain
it would disappear
seem all too clear
as it melted into other when.

Some griefs need talking thru.
They grab the moment
cling to my body
become my being.

I turn before my mirror
and purr, sweet dear
you're hurt!
See, look at the goo
running out of you!

Lorri will say it's ego crap
But I know it's real
Because my words feel.

Submitted: Saturday, May 03, 2014

Topic of this poem: pain


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