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Bus 3

My ears as well as fears hold symmetry among the squeals of bus brakes

Aligning with the water coves accumulating along these streets I dabble timidly towards work

Hoping the our sun is forever gone and hidden, rays still pierced the cloud walks above

All while gazing out of a glass shield thickened due to bullet crowns

They are trophies marking the one who stay hidden like our today sun

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Written by
meb-1
American
Published
Nov 2, 2012
Lines·Words
5·70
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