Poem of a Wanderer

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Earth's canvas rippled, like sheets of an unmade bed

Then faded to the pulsating grid like structure of civilization

A welcomed feeling of disgust overtakes

The familiarity of it all

There is nothing natural about this scene

The cement encase and space diminish

The lights below dim faces glow

And yet we call it beauty

Why we draw to the restless streets and grey so piled high?

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⏰ Last updated: Jul 25, 2016 ⏰

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