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Wednesday morning

The street had the usual colors, gray, black tarmac and dirty brown plaster. The usual copy and paste buildings from the drawing board of long dead architects in art noveau  style. The strait pompous street was oversized made for parades,

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Posted in Autumn, Conflict, Life, patterns, Poem, Poetry, war

Roleplay

Cold and naked in the rain All these people watching Our shame, our frustration The spectator are not the hero of the day A perverted form of entertainment to see Other people being humiliated I do not want to be that

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Posted in Autumn, metamorphosis, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Shame, time