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Long Forgotten

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The old barn beam now stands alone,
Cracked and split, and feeling cold.

Water stains, fade from light to dark,
Due to the rain it’s weathered, and warped.

The old barn beam is tall, thick, and kind of heavy,
Having been passed from dirty hand to hand.

Coarse surface sure to give you slivers,
A rotting stench that’s to make you quiver.


The old barn beam old as dirt and useless,
Now sitting in a cold, stark room gathering dust.

Soon forgotten,
No use for it anymore,
It sits there and grumbles at
The thought of being alone in the small, ugly room.

The old barn beam forever silent
Now forgotten.





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