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Memory

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Boxed in cuffed jeans,

The rain like drizzle of clouds spit
Cars past in a blur in a rush somewhere,
Some to nowhere but looking for a
destination like pin point still to I don't want
To be here, but there because they chose to,
Fate might did not intervene this time
In the building I move, I cough
Someone glance a man,
Him probably thinking about 6ft apart
Like a commandment,
that I/he/I can't overlook.
-ashes poetry

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