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Open Wounds
Tear drops like rain,
Seep into the open wounds of my soul,
Burning, cleansing, staining my mind,
But doing nothing to make me whole.
Smiles don't come often,
In my heart,
Love does not reside,
Only pain and sadness,
That never seem to subside.
Life is what you make it,
Unless you haven't made it at all,
Everyone that thinks they can rise up,
Will surely stumble and fall.
poem
by
Denice Robinson
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