Existential Debt
I lived my early lifein war-torn London
I never experienced
the loving warmth of family
my father seldom addressed me
and when he did
it was with sarcastic criticism
he died in bitter silence
his legacy
a childhood of dark depression
many years would pass
before Camus and Dostoevsky
loosed the shackles
and lifted my gaze
Poetry by Wumbulu
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Written on 2018-12-09 at 14:30
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by Wumbulu Latest textsThe Syllogism of the MadLook Around There When Between the Posts Love Dies |
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