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Rating: 3.2

Dear parents,
I forgive you my life,
Begotten in a drab town,
The intention was good;
Passing the street now,
I see still the remains of sunlight.

It was not the bone buckled;
You gave me enough food
To renew myself.

It was the mind's weight
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Sue Ann Simar 07 February 2009

Almost all thinking people have been pierced by this arrow, no matter what their childhood.

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