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Grief
The little boy
inside
wants to cry
but I won’t let him
the little boy
deep inside
would like to weep
but I can’t let him
because the tears’
artesian
would flood
inundate
and drown
and I have no
happy Ark to bear me
to a smiling shore
and so!
afraid!
I bar and barricade
the door
keeping him immured
in dark
shan’t let him grieve
Betrayed –
eyes dry
he is content to wait
because he understands
my dry-eyed pride!
Then I realise – too late –
the door opens
from his side.
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