Confessions in Rhyme Poems By: Ifayemi Willson L.A. #201 October 27, 1997 Colors Charlotte mixing in with the sailors, is like a drop of gold paint in a bucket of gray paint. Under all the pressure she must feel faint. No other drops of gold paint to accompany her. Only a fraud. Gold on the outside, but hateful clear on the inside. A fraud, trying to be a good captain, but less than the sailors. Since the …
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showed last 75 words of 1844 total
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