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Mar 2021
You are stranded in a sea of people

Battered bodies that generally

Bob up and down until you cannot see

Who was just to your right and what

Shoes they were wearing as they

Are swept away by the swell when you look

Through thick throngs that search for

Someone slow to swallow whole and

Chew and churn until you hear

The suppressed screams of stragglers, but what

Did they expect to find when they

Wandered into the waves? Did they not listen

To the warnings? Is this not what they asked for?
my golden shovel poem
Written by
Grace Haak  21/F/Arizona
(21/F/Arizona)   
153
 
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