deepundergroundpoetry.com
Blankets
No blankets now to hide beneath
No parents bed in which to creep
No songs being sung
No stories told
You're on your own
When you get old
It was scary being a child
Sometimes scarier as an adult.
No parents bed in which to creep
No songs being sung
No stories told
You're on your own
When you get old
It was scary being a child
Sometimes scarier as an adult.
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