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Rated: E · Poetry · Cultural · #1529509
A short poem I wrote on the bus going back to school, tell me what you think.
So here I leave again,
the cold gray country 'hind
where ravens and sit and wait,
'neath the boughs of dripping pine
And the silent mists crawl from sea to swallow sunlit shore

Cocooned within this droning bus, wasteland aft and fore
I'm off again to City's stink and roar
To pound my head in books some more

Out into the vast wide world
Beyond my humble hobbit home
To where strangers masquerade and say,
What busyness brings you here young sir?
But I don't know I cannot say
For I don't understand,
the tired games they play
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