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Poems
Aug 2014
*untitled*
A tasteless, formless meal, encased in vintage wrapping,
a trendy snack.
Layer yourselves,
in the linens of your Grandfathers,
You are the
In
crowd.
Sell your soul,
for a moth-eaten cardigan,
You are a hit now.
Put on the mask and continue the charade,
You are
Fleeting.
Written by
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