Re: The Official Poetry Thread
across the landing the small child creeps
as her creators squabble about irrelevant isues
she turns the corner to where the elders reside
taking a look at the mess they have made - and she sighs
its off to work again she must pick up the pieces
collect whats not broken
mop up the blood and dispose of the broken glass
all she wants is a normal life is that too much to ask??
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