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Polar
Poems
Oct 2016
The Night
I crawl the floor
Collecting broken glass
To protect feet of those who do not know
Do not care
Whilst rejecting offers of company
As music moves the floor.
Later
When all is quiet
I enter the night
To walk along roads alone.
A bogeyman of myth
Stalks these streets
It's ok
For I am not the prey he seeks
I am not the prey he seeks.
Written by
Polar
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