Category: Poetry
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If Vincent were a mental health activist and a slam poet.
Who gave you the right to dub my night depressing or fill my stars with hope? What if the dark is my time of rest and the shimmers of light, a distraction at best? Who asked you to call my cypress, the foreboding of death? When they are as commonplace in my topography as dying…
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Shower Thoughts #4
Tintu Saleem 