This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2003-01-11 17:45:02 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Scorn Not The Scop

I sleep with my Incarta, a part of myself. Daft? I have to peep, spark, and lark with words. Swallow, wallow unheard words. Say naught for what ought to be: I stay fettered, unfree, tie-tongued by unsprung words.

Copyright © January 2003 Mell W. Morris

Additional Notes:
For the Righteous Bro.


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