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The Poet

Poetry doesn't pour out of young women's lips like milk or honey

Poetry doesn't pour out of young women's lips like milk or honey It's ripped out of their chests like a secret well kept The romanticism of young girls peeling off their skin To see what's inside only disrespects the nights they wept Poetry isn't easy Its the process of release made into a ceremony But screams don't leave bleeding throats the way we breathe
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