pages fall from the poem tree
so much confetti or shreds of time.
yesterdays words are the lies of tomorrow
eating up our days in squandering barrels ink
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men will always write of war,
women of pain but all will write of love......beautiful; if tomorrow comes with the beloved poetry then man and woman will forget their war manifestation of life
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men will always write of war, women of pain but all will write of love......beautiful; if tomorrow comes with the beloved poetry then man and woman will forget their war manifestation of life