This Poem by Tweety Duran

This



This feeling I hold inside, feels like the rage of all histories ancestor's combined fighting in a war zone, a war zone of my past. Even though everyone keeps saying the past is over, my soul won't let go of it. Some day's I wonder if I’ll live long enough so that my history will be told like the people that lived before me. It's just each day I can feel myself go a rye, and in all the mists of chaos the hands of my anxiety clench tight around my happiness, it seems to refuse to let it go.

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Tweety Duran

Tweety Duran

Phoenix, Arizona
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