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Rosalie Morris
poem, music

Elliott

You gave them a song
but all they wanted was a
chorus.

You gave them black,
white,
grey.

You gave them truth
and all the lies
in between.

You gave them
stained glass,
fragile and beautiful
like you.

You gave them everything.

Reluctantly, you gave
them your life.
eagerly, you gave them
your death.

But all they wanted was a chorus.


 
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