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Life doesn’t have any special meaning;
life just happens, like when you spill milk.
Riverbank by the main prison building
belongs to the ducks, you like to think
Life happens in busy waiting rooms:
You wait for love, for better luck, for better sleep...
belongs to the ducks, but you are black sheep
In your cell, you walk to the window;
the metal bars slice through the outdoor space.
has become your unreachable special place
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This peom is about a woman in my life, who is suppose to be there for me but is not.
Dreams, desires, id and ego.
This poem is about our failure to feel fulfilled by our constant consumption of life.
Read it and find out.