Crude Awakening

March 18, 2009
I walk down the street
Listening to everyone's beat
I look around
Listening to foot steps against the ground
I watch the people
Listening to the singing coming from the steeple
I sit on down
Listening to all sounds
I sit and think
Listening, trying not to blink
Yet the more I listen to below
I start to blow
I am not listening to a fairy tale
This world is full of black mail
Those aren't sounds of joy
That is a crying boy
This is not a place of hospitality
This is crude reality

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