A conduit of tears
is flailing through the past.
And as I sit and linger,
I wander toward the last
thought that crossed my mind.
These people, ever rash
don’t seem to even bother
to pickup all their trash.
And I wonder why
I look like the ass,
as I’m trying, failing
to just maintain my grasp.
A conduit of tears
is falling as I passed.
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