The poetry, stories and intrigues of C.J. Brenner

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Hand of sagging dread

You love thy rug
You love thy gown
Yet when its happy
You hate your town

You see through pictures
You see through delight
Why is it that everytime you yawn
You get the need to fight

So I walked on your rug
And I sat on your gown
Who would have discovered
Your station was going down

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