There is a man,
Who is bleeding from his face,
There is people running across the street wondwering,
Kids througing stones,
The future blowing like always has,
Please stop asking me,
Don’t make me be part of this,
By The Shortfellow
04-07-10
Selection of Poetry, Essays on Art culture and politics as well free writing about the vision of life by The Shortfellow
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