Looking on

These happy faces
that blush when others change,
they all have
the same shade,
saying the same things
as if words were a war
and they wanted to stay neutral.
Where do we each
fit in?
This city has all the stores,
like random noises
shaking themselves off
and falling with the leafs.
It’s my own morbid confusion
acting on its impulses
and trying to understand
all these questions
that were formed
without the possibility
of an answer.

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About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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