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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Oct 2017
About Tuesday
The clock ticks on
you think the alarm's
a bomb
and it blows up in your
face.
That's how it feels
if you make your deals
with the Devil or his son.
Must run
got a train to catch
got to patch in
to this day and
its sin.
In the spectrum
if ** hum
is light
I got no right
to complain
the clock ticks on
just the same
and
I still think it's a
bomb.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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