Putrid, Cinnamon And Wine - Poem by Wullien Thang
Flared up nose
Sweet past home
Bangs of pain
Smells of sweet food,
no, it's just rotten food.
Is it cinnamon?
I feel the sweetness of alcohol.
Grandma's food, grandma's house
grandma's smell, sweet memories lost.
(not finished yet...)
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