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Paper dolls

Soft skin

Or 
A sharp tongue
Blurred vision
Or
The clarity 
Of the blind
Apparently
We will
Wash 
You
We will
Clean you 
Until 
There is 
Nothing left
No skin
No bones
No worth
And 
No value
And you can
Argue
All you like
Put yourself 
In the dock
Ring me
From 
Long ago
And far away
Just tell me
One thing only
How you would 
Like me 
To answer
What you want
Because 
When I swirl
The dirty water
Down the plug hole
Close my eyes
Until another day
Reluctantly 
When I open them
I hope 
Everything will be 
Different 
And the world 
Has spun its
Web
And the people
Have moved on
Instead of being 
Cardboard cutouts
And waiting 
For the fire
 
If only
I had
A
Match
Well maybe then
You'd see

◄ The march of the living dead

Cave people ►

Comments

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 17th Jan 2015 17:00

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