#1000584 added December 20, 2020 at 11:38pm Restrictions: None
The Exiles
They are the exiles
huddled against the cold brick
ducked under an overhang
they gather together
seeking shelter from the wintry air
bonded by their forbidden addiction
hands shaking in the cold
struggle to light a match
a band of office outcasts
huddled under a cloud of smoke
and contempt
from those who stroll by
Promptly Poetry Week 29
Use these three words in your poem:
stroll, exile, addicted
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