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i have a garden of balloons

you have desperations of joy that you

walk on short leashes

happiness has sharp teeth.

and mercury eyes.

collar tugging back

adam’s apple bobbing of

rabid throat.

 

Look up, beast, look up, frightened

brief fires.

when balloons bloom they pop

most times

but when they don't

they slip soul-less to skies

away.

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Written by
sr-devaste
Published
Oct 25, 2012
Lines·Words
14·52
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