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May 2016
Imaginary man, go. Here is your passport.
The imaginary city will not miss you.
The paper woman will not kiss you.
The snake oil train will too soon depart.

Imaginary man, weep. The furnaces tore you 'part.
Reality here is fain to **** you.
When no one else can cry, will you?
The tears in past you'd always dry, now refuse to start.

Imaginary man, flee. Your soul is free of this evil fort.
Their guns shall never train on you.
Their gases cannot ****** you.
But here you stay, a ship which burned in fallen port.

Imaginary man, die.
Liberty and Innocence cry.
Reality shall pay no mind.
The child's slain on concrete floor.

Did you bring your passport?
Innocence weeps for want of morality. The innocence of a generation wept for want of an imaginary friend.
Lark Train
Written by
Lark Train  California
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