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Poetry
Top voted Poetry
#483801voted by our readers
By Anonymous
He thinks he knows why I cry, As he cradles me in his arms- The damage done by his own hand Perhaps pressing lightly onto his conscience. But no – He grips me tighter, Scold...
He thinks he knows why I cry, As he cradles me in his arms- The damage done by his own hand Perhaps pressing lightly onto his conscience. But no – He grips me tighter, Scold...