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Rated: · Poetry · Other · #911789
once, I was there, under control, now I fly free like a bird
He may not be smiling,
he may be laughing,
his eyes may be darkened,
with hatred and fear;
the sky may be shining,
the washing can dry,
the screen door is open,
the glass on the floor,
she cannot look up,
She won't move from her place,
hiding from sunshine,
hiding from pain,
hiding from us and...
hiding her face.
He may not be handsome,
or have the charms,
but of her;
he has control.
© Copyright 2004 Polly Souter (broom at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/911789-He-has-control