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Poetry

Papa don't


Dawn
February 11, 2007
iranian.com


Papa,
You were always my favorite loner,
Sitting in the corner.

But Papa, I can't breathe.

You pushed me under the blue,
Only to lift me,
With a black balloon.

Papa, what's wrong with me?

You cut me down so low,
That my heart collapsed,
And is thumping somewhere,
Down below.

Papa,
When I turned twenty three,
And you didn't call,
I realized I can live without you,
After all.

 

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