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Nolan Bucsis
Poems
Apr 2018
Some kinda, disconnection.
I'm symetrically out of place.
Every where I go.
Covered in the filth of a thousand chain smoked.
Cigarettes.
And, the offal.
Smelling foul.
Mould.
****.
Betraying the lie of potential.
In my face.
Written by
Nolan Bucsis
34/M/Somewhere in Canada
(34/M/Somewhere in Canada)
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