A poem from Screwed Up: Penitentiary Poetry... 4th Post!

untitled Poem, by W.T.W.

What comes next?
I have no idea.
Everyday brings a new pain,
The memories are enemies.
It’s been years
Since she disappeared
But she’s still here,
Living in a memory.
She whispers in my ear.
A silent souvenir,
And I taste a tear.
My memories are enemies.

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