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Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Short Poetry By Russ Cope

1.  Day of Driving

I've got a day
of driving ahead,
an illness to cure
with the beating
sound of blaring
pop music,
but not stop seems
to do the trick.

2.  Wooden

I once was a real boy
and not this wooden
heart.
My face used to feel,
now I have to take
medication
just to stand up straight.

3.  Face Against the Bars

I'm a prisoner
of myself.
I'm locked in my own
imagination.
Worrying constantly,
washing my hands
over and over,
ridding myself of the world.

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