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"Hope is a thing with feathers" They read, confused. The only feathers in life were On TV or locked away in a zoo. They read the poetry of Whitman The dictates of Emerson Of Ginsburg, Steinbeck, Salinger Nothing made sense When you spend your life being prodded From concrete box to concrete box Stuffed, squashed and barely managing to survive, Imagination is rare It's hard to picture feathers, Red hunting caps, blooming lilacs, Open roads Between ***** pavements Glittering broken bottles, and leftover plastic Beauty became an expensive concept, Best left for academics
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Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
Poetry Class
"Hope is a thing with feathers" They read, confused. The only feathers in life were On TV or locked away in a zoo. They read the poetry of Whitman The dictates of Emerson Of Ginsburg, Steinbeck, Salinger Nothing made sense When you spend your life being prodded From concrete box to concrete box Stuffed, squashed and barely managing to survive, Imagination is rare It's hard to picture feathers, Red hunting caps, blooming lilacs, Open roads Between ***** pavements Glittering broken bottles, and leftover plastic Beauty became an expensive concept, Best left for academics
nuha-fariha
Written by
Bangladeshi
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
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