Sunday LunchA Poem by John Alexander McFadyenWe live, mostly, in an insulated worldSunday
Lunch Within apple pie memories with Birds Custard applied and trifles, I stand reminiscing on stews and mince and Sunday roasts my mother made. Deep inside, my hunger is for more. It begs answers as to my flaws, my frailties. The reasons I may not be free. Attachment theory be fucked, I never felt your scourge. But why is it despots still rule at home and abroad? Why is it money and power talk? and humanity takes a back seat still? 05/12/17 © 2017 John Alexander McFadyenReviews
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2 Reviews Added on December 5, 2017 Last Updated on December 5, 2017 AuthorJohn Alexander McFadyenBrixworth, England, United KingdomAboutWell, have a long and complicated story and started it as an autobiography on Bebo but got writer's block/memory fogging. People liked it though and kept asking for the next chapter! fools.. more..Writing
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