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Poems by: Erick Mayes

here is the first one by Erick, called:


Every Night


He sits in his room night after night.
No one comes over or calls.
He looks at his hands.
His soft beathing is the only sound in his room.
His thoughts are sad with regret.
He never looks at the clock.
Time doesn’t matter.
His hands don’t matter.
His breathing doesn’t matter.
His thoughts don’t matter.
He doesn’t matter.

By. Erick Mayes

Email: infchaos@aol.com