Because not all summer days are sunny

A wasted youth,

a damaged heart

my time in trash

with the dreams I flushed

floating

in a septic tank

 

Some lines are overused

like the promises,

like the varnished truths.

There’s a loaf of bread

forgotten

growing molds.

 

The happy faces in pictures

will not leave the celluloid.

They refuse reality’s glare,

they shy away from your stare.

Content

to hide in a kilobyte.

 

Crippled.

Down.

I lose this round.

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