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 Harry Sweeden. My life in verse.

geishacountrypoetpoetry759
This quiet head


No recollection of the quiet boy I used to be
somehow life claimed him,
he then faded away…
the daylight to busy,
the night-time so scary
no place of comfort for this quiet head to lay.

My reflection today reflects only life's battle scars
carved out of muscle,
and tattooed with pride…
covering each truth
for a chance of another life
somewhere less painful for this quiet head to hide.











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