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The inside of my eyelids have not gotten the attention lately they deserve. The impression of my head within my pillow, is not as deep. Oh, how much I long to sleep the sleep of teenage years, before bills, before children, before worry, before tiny voices crying out my name in the night and the pads of little feet edging their way closer to my bedside... ...
Added 23 Aug 2013 | Category Poetry | Votes 5 | Avg Score 5 | Views 817 | 4 Comments
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