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Kirah Mar 2021
Time is a thief,
A thief of plans in our task notes,
A thief of dreams from our bucket list,
But time steals people too.
How is it we pass strangers through the streets each day,
Strangers who make it to the end of the day,
And those we were the last to see with hands in their pockets,
Strangers we don't get to see in their tinted cars,
And all those friends who turn into strangers,
Maybe we just should not take a thing for granted,
Guess of all we knew, one, if we'd be seeing them for their last,
We'd be a little kinder and sweeter than the freeloaders we've become.
nothing's Amiss Jul 2015
Grey nameless faceless suits
A decaying ladder without roots
Monochrome and corporate candy  loot

Your elitest point is mute.
Your point is mute!

Fine dining line driving
A self-sabotaging visionary
Glass half empty
Down your throat white wine is sliding

D-U-why is my life such a mess?
I dream of big success
In nightmares you wear office dress
This is a test

Of your *******
Freeload patience!

Just a purple plastic bobble head
Nodding yes with self-deprecating complacency
Lowely little Attempts of autonomy

Grin wider with each ****-induced palpitation
Foaming at the mouth
  media-induced inebriation--
Cheap industrial imitation
On the fringes, gazing upwards with disgust.

— The End —