Poetry from Henry Bladon

The Pain Remains

 

 

Cristina’s a weirdo, they would say.

She’s fat and stupid and a schizo.

 

Then there was this;

set in stone.

 

Names never hurt you?

They so do.

 

So, when you are

throwing poisonous darts

from the other side,

 

think about this:

the pain remains.

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