This Love Is A Flower I Can't Keep
walking through the neighborhood with you,
It was yesterday and I was a small child;
I didn't like your crew-cut hairstyle
and hoped my friends didn't see you;
Now, you lie in a hospital bed
and only want to go home to die;
we have long since become friends
and you are the child.
How to protect what is left of you?
poem by Uriah Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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