A Dear John Letter,
And folded, pretty panties.
A rememberance?
Mother Goose mothers
Her goslings with a story.
Am I included?
Here I stand in Rain.
Do Happy, Peppy People:
Take their meds like me?
The same plays again?
Echoing through the seasons.
...they still sound like shit.
Lovers speak words? Flat.
Rote. At each other’s faces?
Kiss? Die a little.
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