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Blood Money

Now that you are dead,
I will be your author.
To tell your sad or happy story,
as I see it.
To carry your memory...
to share your stolen life with ignorant others.

 I now orate a poem
that is a reality, a tragedy.
The next generation will hear my bias blood-curdling cry.
To cry your story onto the blank page.
To receive my living as a writer.

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