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Gassy Human Stations

Three months Quarantine
added no Quinine

No Rose Mary(Corona-red)
came for me
but added
a bombing
gas one
machine

Have you not
the flavour/toxity
experienced
it's been ages

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Hi lovedly, I'm rather confused by your poem. It's so sad about the gas chambers, but I don't relate them to our quarantine, by no means. The last strophe is quite a mix. I think you mean "toxicity" or "toxic", right?
No, with all respect, I don't "get it", just me, I guess. A virtual hug, keep safe.

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

perhaps misled
How do you now feel
Kindly reread
Note
metaphorical poetry
all about indigestion
no exercise ma'am

author comment

Hi lovedly, back again. I understand it better now. Nice one. Just the last strophe:

Have you not
the flavour/toxity
experienced
ages (it's) been

Perhaps "it's been ages"?

All the best, Gracy

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"My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies; fairy tales of yesterday will grow but never die, I can fly, my friends.” – Freddie Mercury

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