this is your life

 

don’t let me be

mediocre

the middle child

of art.
if my words

do not slap you

Square in the face

my words are then

as transient

as every other futility

we pursue

with a burning rage

(passion removed)

it is being put out

every minute.

call nine one one

your life is in danger.

the smoke is evaporating.

yet here you are

filing pay check after pay check

talking about liberation

with shackles around your mind.

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