Identical Crisis – an old poem

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Identical Crisis

I’m a son
I’m a bun
I don’t work
It don’t hurt
Tell me what to be
Show me what to see
So I can know
And scream and grow
And cry on the sidewalk
And die, and hide
And crawl, and talk

Because I am smart
I read a book
I am lying
I’m a crook
I stole this line
And lost a shoe
It’s not a sign
It isn’t true
That I am lost
I have a plan
To steal socks
and live in a van
Or hide in a park
Or explode my heart

Or die alone
With a million dollars
And sing along
While the world goes smaller

 

 

7/27/08

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