A Holiday Poem
Every year
the year goes by like
survivable Christmas suicide.
Two-thousand-three
Two-thousand-four
Two-thousand-five
Maybe this winter,
maybe this time.
the year goes by like
survivable Christmas suicide.
Two-thousand-three
Two-thousand-four
Two-thousand-five
Maybe this winter,
maybe this time.
1 Comments:
I don't know why I posted this. I'm actually in an ok mood today.
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