Jeremy Ryan Holloway Poems

These keys that remain; this burned out old home; signed over in vain; there lies my dog's bone's

No object left standing; insurance unpaid; for my wife she left me for a man yet so grey.
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On a bench outside they passed me by, the place rejected go. Oh the souls! How rejected by the world; such was I.

Once life was grand! I wrote stage-plays everyday. Gone away now; like the war of yesterday: An amputee of a mind full of whiskey and bad poetry.
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