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Feb 2012
I saw him neatly fold his life away and stuff it next to his watch,
In his front pocket,
The room lost color, so I went downstairs...

To the kitchen, red as a solo cup,
Where a group of my friends had drank their lives away,
I couldn't stay to watch them wipe what was left from their chins...

So I sat outside (I love the green),
And dreamt my life away in little puffs of smoke,
That I sent home to the clouds.
Kirsten Martin
Written by
Kirsten Martin
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