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Grieving
Like to dislike
Love to hate,
It’s strange how
Some people swing
One-hundred and eighty
Degrees,
Two old ladies,
Grandmothers on walkers,
Hating men, children, dogs,
Cats and a never ending list of
Things,
Perhaps they’re pissed
That it may soon be over,
And their miserable anger is
Their way of grieving their leaving.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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