Try Poem by Israel Ebiti
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Dust risen with the wind plays with the eyes;
with each strike comes a rise,
and then the incessant babblings of the wind;
unkind and very hesitatnt to rescind
Thud! to the ground, yet you still can rise....
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: trying
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5/7/2024 5:33:41 AM # 1.0.0.1119
