Slow Suicide in Tomkins Square Park
This untraveled road to redemption,Pitted and scarred
With the wrecks of those who went before me.
The broken bodies and shattered lives,
Laying on the benches,
Around the bend by the water fountain.
I present to all of you,
The fallacy that is my life.
Do with it ewhat you will-
But dont sleep in my doorway,
For that is what I own.
This bleak existence
Is my only pessession,
Cast adrift by all the powers
That really dont exist
Until I make them in my head.
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