The Writers Voice
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My 911
by
Brent Fuller
See,
We return
We come
We cross
Our satin countryside
Fight to ribbons
Pinned
‘Cross our chests
And how they make us
Cry
Why thus I wait
Adept
And tune
My senses past your lore
Smashed all the things
I bought with last weeks pay
For all the gore
Put fright aside
Malevolence
And riches
Laid in store
Gone are my rights
My wife
My plight was
Terror
Dust and sores
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