You Only Write Once Scholarship Poetry Slam

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When a story is told, passed by generations father to son, mother to child.   These stories need to be protected. When the fires wreak hovok upon a city we must race to libraries.  
The first day of a never ending trial The world is my jury; It decides what I will be, How I should look, How I should feel. With the interrogating pressure of success
I saw a video today about the life of a typical teenage girl (in the 21st century).
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