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syllables flicker
between
unrelenting self pity,
and berations
poorly disguised
as remorseful verses
you're a real piece of work
all rothko
and no manet

boring lines
keeping the colors
from conversing
what's the stupid smirk doing on your face

wipe
        it
           off

it's a disgrace
left & leaving

the sun ain't sleeping

tears thick on lashes
cloud one's vision
we haven't even reached tyronne street

           /the end of our lives

we've still got a block to walk

          /twenty years together
no perks to being this wallflower
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