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the poetry of Charles Fry

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26 April 1994

words

they step on my toes
and they pull my hair
bringing tears to my lonely eyes

i try to be strong
and to stand by myself
pretending i never cry

but the bricks that they spit
build up in my heart
tearing through to the other side

i'm falling i'm breaking
i beg to be spared
do they see what they do to my life

 The Stunning Beauty Of Her Majesty   snoitcelfer   Dis Cove Ry   In God We Trusted   the Rock   civility   memories   so valuable   card board   How Realistic   grandpa   Mr. Darwin Once Proposed The Existence Of A Dynamic Race   words   Today   The Hangman's Tree   the tracks   young boys   (conformity)   forests   Death   the Mask   a Child i was born   Seclusion   Freedom   snoW   What if there was a war and nobody came?