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To M
It seems there has never been
Enough of you
To go around
It was I
Who was always left
Empty handed
It seeems there may never be
Enough of you
To drown out the sound
Of a little girl lost
Forgotten
Who yearns to be healed
Waits to be found
I grasp you
Fistfulls at a time
I hold on with all my might
Yet somehow still
I get left behind
Where I gather you
And stuff the holes
Of wounds made
So long ago
God, how I cried for you
poem
by
Erika Wingo
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