I hate it here.
These dull blocks.
Scream of compulsion.
I loved the trees.
I still do.
But they are falling.
Onto red wrap.
I hate it here.
These grim people.
Scream of poverty.
I loved the idea of a town.
I still do.
But it’s just another grave.
For me to lay in.
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m i l d a < 3
A poem by me!
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