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Oct 2014
It
What’s your constitution mean in everything that you do?
I don’t know what it’s for or even if it’s true,
All you want is some restitution from institutions, but for whom?
Our thoughts become diluted when our language is all computed,
The echoes of an alien keyboard pounding don’t sound like music,
To me it is convoluted, your focus on who did or did not do it,
Now I’m not eating,
And I’m not sleeping,
And I’m not even thinking this all through,
All my everything’s are forever gravitating to and around you,
Breaking what’s already broken,
Fixing frozen feelings with a glue gun,
It won’t stick forever but open on up and see what you've become,
She needs you when she needs but when you need her she’s always gone,
It’s better being on your own,
It is better being,
It is better,
It is,
It is wrong
Bryn Dawes
Written by
Bryn Dawes  Essex
(Essex)   
306
   Gypsy Bard
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