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Walk home

The smell of smoke is comforting

As I carry my brick back home

I forgot I liked the smell of burnt

I forgot smoke doesn’t always mean cigarettes

 

I looked out the window of my bus

And the city is dead today

My pretty city with all its misery

Death doesn’t carry much weight anymore

 

I don’t cry when I feel pretty

I am being punished for a crime

The crime of being gullible

I must now repent for

 

3 people died today, many will grieve

I hope I get to mourn something real

I don’t want to be medicated

I don’t want to die sad and stupid

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Written by
Bobers
18
Published
Mar 23
Lines·Words
16·108
Notes

2026

Permission

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