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    Poetry
    Cold Comfort
    Submitted By: Nkiru Njoku

    A bed for my weary head,
    grub for my empty guts
    were all i asked of him
    but the man gave me words.
    'patience child, it is well'.
    words that are true yet empty
    for my head still needs a bed
    and my guts remain empty,
    words cannot fill them up.

    © Nkiru Njoku, June 17, 2003

     

     

     

     

     

     


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