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Crisp mornings

  • Writer: Karl Tearney
    Karl Tearney
  • Oct 11, 2016
  • 1 min read

This morning the world looked bright and crisp, through my drug fogged haze as I woke. I wonder when I will ever quench this eternal thirst. Am I becoming obsessed with my poetry or is my poetry becoming obsessed with me?

 
 
 

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