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Poetry
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| The yard | |
| By Suspect-D-Vice | ||||||||
| 28 September 2006 | ||||||||
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'Nuff said. It comes in the night, the fear, the haunting Taking me back to the yard, the taunting Halting my reach, my touch, my courting Taking me back to the yard. Now I fear not the pain, the hurting Only the sensation of the spurting Pushing my face into the dirt and Taking me back to the yard.
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