PS Brain

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Life passes by as clouds affront the glass
Nectar of childhood’s honeysuckle dried
Now sticky residue under desks in class
A vivid garden, burgeoned countryside
Is dug up, her coverings are stripped
Her rivers drained, trees nailed into factories
Until the laughs, the art, the love, has slipped
Production of guaranteed success, pleas
Shareholder in her stock, white-knuckled grips
Upon the levers start to give away
In looking, finds a bloom, list’ning, a blue jay






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