Fellow Rats

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Fellow Rats

By Dillon Collins

When the walls float outward I am caught in the cracks

Shining beams of light on my furry rat back.

My fur has a glistening greasy sin shine.

Hosting party to the thousands of sins that are mine.

I tucked my claws in my paws and I'm dancing the dance.

Pitter-pat, pitter-pat, bloated head trance.

Back in the the trap, scream pretty, scream.

I'm shining my shoes and living the dream.

Forgetting my conscience I storm through the night.

With my peace signs hung and incense sconces burning bright.

Ferociously determined to quietly ignore,

all the the thought from my head of things that happened before.

Fight the walls, not the cracks, to let the sun through!

Let it burn baby, burn down to bones and sinew.

Maybe then when there's nothing left,

we will finally start assigning more importance to each and every breath.

Pushing on though the rain clouds form.

Creating storm water walls to wash away our norm'.

And so we face our giants, whatever they be.

As we quietly indulge in our war of the free...

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