Talent
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Aliyah Quadan, Grade 6
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Poetry
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2013
It comes, it goes,
And nobody knows,
The pain which overcomes me.
It spins, it twists,
Knuckles to wrists,
To be proven, it glows cheerfully.
It runs, it stops,
Sweeps like mops,
But I have to continue, doubtfully.
I didn't know,
Talent could be so,
A money thing taken from me.