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by justin Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Satire · #1725419
this poem could have easily been called composition of a city.
recounting
a short walk

and mangled mechanics
on a rustic track

we’re headed into oblivion
we don’t know how to get
anywhere else
but this place

cracking pavement, a
baby in a dumpster

raw sewage taints the air
near a tree a few feet from here

i wrapped myself under the sheets
that were filled with my own sweat

awoke in a fit of anger
i haven’t seen a falling leaf (in years)
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