THE child sits naked and beat,
by a man who calls himself the
king, how sad the fat king thinks,
not even jesus will dry those tears,
...
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a strong poem with justice ever present ever longed for finally to surface a fine poem
EIGHT HUNDRED AND NINETY FIVE BAD DREAMS, NOT BAD BROTHER I HAVE THEM BUT I CAN NEVER REMEMBER THEM, THANK GOD wARM REGARDS AJS
DAVID...SAD& IMPACTFULL....A HOUSE OF SORE DISTRESS..... FORCEFULL WRITE...10...'''''''''''''''FRANK