Therapy Poem by Igor Wolfson
Therapy
Come here, rain.
Erase me. Try.
What death is for, if we can't die...?
Come here, human being.
Don't be shy.
I'll show you how I'm going mad... and why...
Friday, May 9, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: rain
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4/21/2024 1:10:08 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Hmmm....an interesting little write! ! !