An open invitation
A bout of meditation
To claim our emancipation
With a bitter medication
Filled with rhyme
Thyme time tick tock ticking
In crooked lines we watch
With bleeding noses
Dotting in the spaces
Who mister miss erases
We squint with anticipation
Arms turning turning
Turning like windmills
Lugubrious Smiles Often End In Bouts Of Laughter
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