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coyote
Poems
May 2016
839
your chest was heavy with the need to leave;
your head sick with the things you hadn't seen.
but you're glad you stayed, even if it was just to see
everything that you've ever loved laid to waste,
slow and ugly.
no city can unravel you like that population sign
of eight hundred and thirty-nine.
clearing out drafts.
#small-town-nausea
Written by
coyote
the past
(the past)
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Rapunzoll
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