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C J RICHARDSON WRITER - HISTORICAL FICTION
Why do you use me, abuse me so badly?
Screwing up paper and squashing it madly;
nestling the throwaway news in my innards.
Filling the spaces and feeding me firewood,
topped up with logs that were chopped with a chainsaw.
Striking a light, so you can watch me burn bright,
flashing with flames that scorch my glass screen.
You jab and you prod with your powerful poker,
sparks splash and splinter , a furnace of rain,
Leaving me gouged and gutted again.
Home is where the Hearth by C J Richardson
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