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It was a short day, I never thought at the end of the day that World War II would end, and my husband would not return to me. Why you ask, he... » Read
By Jan Gabriel
This poem is about... wait, no. I have no absolutely idea what it's about. I don't even remember writing it, but apparently I did. Good God, what have I done?
This piece is subject to interpretation (and possible clinical analysis).
A poem about smoking pot