By Mohammad A. Yousef
In the soft glow of morning light,
they dance like whispers,
...
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This is terrible stuff, crap and nonsense, and more crap and nonsense. You are addicted to fantasy, to ideals, not to reality. Grow up, write wisely!
Again, more idle adoration. Just more crap you are bombarding us with …. We don't need 50 poems, not even poems here—please stop!
Police Lackey, Police Proxy, Police Sycophant who takes up space here—tu, you.