Dumpling In My Soup

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Irwin.

Submitted: August 11, 2016

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Submitted: August 11, 2016

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?As I wake up and I opened my window and my toilet flushed backward

And I cooked my breakfast but my pancakes burned to stone

?It left a feeling, extremely feeling about what it was, undone, simply crushed

?Walking around my house to find nothing, that is, until I found something

?I carry my weight, I carry my clothes, I carry whatever put into deep nomenclature

And when I say, hold the salt, they think I'm contrary to the real of taste to flavor

None of that, behold the eyes?

Sometimes is like non-other day, castles and billets, throne in the thrash, it belongs

?And the reserve was moved to the front with no apparent reasons, waste of lives

?The more noodles, in my soup, the better life for the one lousy piece bread-cold.


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