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There were nights my deep hunger dreamed of bread, my despair pressed a razor to my wrist, my self-hatred plunged a needle into my vein, my shame curled my inner child into a disfigured fetal position.
Theodore McDowell
Jenine Bsharah Baines
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Gulping down every word - wow, Theodore!
J…Jen…Jeni…Jenine... Proper names are poetry in the raw. (W.H. Auden) Poet, singer, seeker, hippie grandmother gleefully revealing herself
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