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May 2015
Nobody cares about
the leftover foil
from a long lost party.

Nobody sings the song
that peaked at thirty-three
in nineteen ninety-six.

Nobody catchesΒ the
girl with the thin straw hair
when she jumps from the bridge.

Nobody writes poems
about a dying ****
within suburbia.
Shin
Written by
Shin  30/M/Chicago
(30/M/Chicago)   
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