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You Have Become A Bone In My Throat
have the conscience
set me free
for you have become a fish bone
inside my throat
clinging to a tissue that starts to rot
and smell
i sound as harsh as a stone grating
on the banks of the river
raging to be free
i gnash my teeth like pebbles
thrown upon the tiled floors of the house
where no one wants
to live.
poem
by
Ric S. Bastasa
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