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Rating: 5.0

The prospect of you paralyses me
though I cannot understand how.
You are a piece of paper, A4,
with some words, numbers, grades.

You should not shake me to the core.
All I have to do is turn up, accept you,
the systematically printed sheet
of misery in a brown envelope.

Well, not misery. That’s extreme.
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Kelly Allen Vinal 28 August 2006

Powerful imagry and a wonderful poem!

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