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when I am here poetry [ ]
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - by ioan daria [vraya ]
2010-12-20
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When I am here
Things become obscure
Alone
The phone is making some noise
And I remember that other times
Things smiled or cried like children,
They weren’t dark at all
And I wish I were an old man walking in Liverpool
And voices made my way through any crowd
Like I were alone face to my hole in this earth
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