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they call me
Revisions of future decisions
in a time when ignorance was
viewed as wisdom;
going against the grain down
a one way street;
day dreaming of the trees minus
the stems and seeds;
cruising blindly through the shadows
drifting aimlessly, living shamefully;
wondering why the hot and fly steadily
pass you bye;
never peering into the depths of the whites
of your eyes;
thinking your ugly, always feeling lonely;
revisions of past follies,
where in all dreams you were
always falling, sleep but
eyes wide open;
day dreaming at night and
sweating from nightmares by daylight;
so your friends call you
the day walker stalker;
Vote for this poem
they call me
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