by M.R. Phillips
It’s a life
Of thrift
Store-bought boots
Broken bottles
Sore knees
And out of tune guitars
All this badness rolled up into a ball
Above,
Looks like weather
Horizon,
Once, we were friends
But this life has got
In our way
Disillusioned
Some day soon, we’ll meet again.
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Nice, simple nature.
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