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Jun 2019
They’re all the same.
They’re all the same.
Sterile cubes to the horizon; snowy stains
Crew cut lawns of
Neon ball-field grass
Blacktop floors, silver chariots past
Barbed wire cages of pristine wood sides
Maples spaced mechanically
Mother Nature cyanide
Hospital sheeting, board room meeting
Hollow caskets of dead visions
Creative color fleeting.

They’re all the same.
They’re all the same.
Optic nerve trickery; I must be insane
So far the truthful eyes can see
Flawless cookie cutter plastic sheen
Synthetic golden palace gleam
Manicured daisies spaced between
Another and another; cloned dollhouse genes
Another and another; recurring cul-de-sac dreams
Criss-crossed patterns; golf course greens
Castles of pastel kings and queens.
Thanks! Any feedback appreciated
Hammond Colson
Written by
Hammond Colson  20/M
(20/M)   
792
   Fawn
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