e-Paper Poetry of Vinx

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Hell of a place…

This was once the floor I laid
Whom I craved and so adored…

One I was hundred percent sure
Until it mixed my baking flour

With beautiful ashes and dust
Covering gun powder and rust.

Hence, I am a running fly
Running from sorrows and lies

Pouring down like southern rain
Served as cakes, to wash my brain

On and by the floor, where I lie
Is a place I never wish to die.

©2018 http://Vinzpoetry.wordpress.com
Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu



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