...you say:
no matter
how many books
one reads -
ending is
in platter
under reeds
chewing on
your neighbor's meat,
marching with the crowd,
singing their song
as if never written
your unique chanson...
ripped so recklessly,
pieces - in the sand,
burial pattern of ancestry
fertilizing land...
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Like the ending as that is were all go, back to the land.
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