Untitled MAG

By Eamon O., Alameda, CA

foolish fool am i to think of sorrow
if born never i was to be how fun
yes a fool to disregard tomorrow
in bright metallic furture's looming sun

while sandbox freedom evades my attempts
i slide complacently toward disgust
in acquiescence i have lost my sense
worlds made for me and i am made of dust

hours waking a painful waste of time
i trudge through winter wearing not a hat
my being a cosmological crime
mysterious the origin of that

it's not as bad as it may to you seem
with sunday comes the privilege to dream

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i love this so much!


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