You, peddling my love at a sidewalk.A Poem by andrew mitchell
Were I not
a vending machine, you placed your order, I waited on; your selection to deliver on what you asked for. I felt your frustration, shaking my essence on buttons pushed, when I was stuck on your indecision.
© 2017 andrew mitchell |
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1 Review Added on February 13, 2017 Last Updated on February 13, 2017 Authorandrew mitchelladelaide, AustraliaAboutStrindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more.. |

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