by Jun 18, 2004Poetry

My Vision with Tears, Blurred,
My Dignity Hangs by a Thread.
Your Voice with Anger, Slurred,
Around you I Carefully Tread.

The Night has Come, I’m all Alone;
Sleepless, Weary, yet Roused with Fear.
My Body though, you Do Not Own,
Your Presence Felt when you Draw Near.


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Found in Home 5 Reading Room 5 Poetry 5 Reflection

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