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The Poetry Bar

Constipation

We were born
To create
A poem from dust
That lingers in our
Antiquated room
Or a prose
From mud
On our doorstop
Left by the
Last stranger
That disturbed our
Peace

But on some
Days we aren’t
Lucky
And are left
With some cleaning
to do.

Esmeralda Balita is a living paradox.

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