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COPPER CLOCKS

Poetry By: blue3232
Poetry


its a bipoler thing...


Submitted:Jun 6, 2012    Reads: 7    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


copper clocks belching, miniature cities filled with white smoke, tattoes painted every where, and a slum lord waiting to sell his dope.big shiny cars yelling and sreaming as a child hides in this heat, a man pulls out a gun and points it at me and you, then a cop pulls his gun out, and just like that, , , , , , , , , , , , this moment ends only to begine the next day...





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