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This Town

I took a stroll down the dusty streets today

The desolate paths were walled by lonely buildings

I think it's what they call "Downtown"

But I doubt they truly believe it

 

I opened up the door to a shop today

The creak was met by a clang

Of bells once happy to greet me

They say it's an antiquity they ought to keep around

But I doubt they truly believe it

 

I stepped into the library today

The shelves so full yet barren

Dust laid like sorrow

Longing for days gone past

They say it's a public place

Of commerce and talk

But I doubt they truly believe it

 

I sat down on a bench today

The sky looked down with orange tears

This place was only sorrow encased in buildings and roads

Full of people avoiding the pulls

To get away from this place, to a happier pasture

 

They say it's normal around here, to get lost in the loneliness

But I doubt they truly believe it

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Written by
truman-brislin-miller
American
Published
Jan 2, 2012
Lines·Words
23·168
Notes

I started writing this intending on a happier poem, but somehow it turned into a rather sad one. I wonder if I can even write happy poems sometimes .___.

Permission

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