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9 to 5 crime

I hear music. In my head. At work. To drone out the sounds of the suits and staplers the wilting plastic flower dreams of once so close possibility. A sonnet to the diminishing flame of art that I hide beneath my desk between my legs please keep it alive let me not forget who I am. I mean maybe there's still a yes somewhere down the road a someday. Sing louder. Sing louder I won't disappear today

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Written by
kate-crash
Published
Oct 19, 2010
Lines·Words
1·77
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