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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1603022
A look at man's fornever.
Crave the fornever.
Mine wants a new shack.
Is yours okay?
Well mine has a crack.

Faucets are leaking,
Drowning the floor.
The red is seeping,
and pumped the landlord to my door.

He's evicting my passion,
leaving me left to rue.
I asked, 'Where's my last ration?'
He said, 'The past destroyed it, it's limp at room two'.


*Fornever isn't a typo, in essence, it's man's desire for nostalgic fulfillment, a second chance at the past, or to live in it. It's in the heart.*
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