Sunday Blues

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The poem is a soliloquy in which the person is tired of everything and wants a clean state protocol to be enabled. He is ranting and being miserable in his free time, hence the title Sunday Blues.

Submitted: July 25, 2016

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Submitted: July 25, 2016

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Hello, my demons
help me ease the pain.
Let’s take one of those free runs
and fade away.
Been sitting here lonely,
She never leaves.
So loyal, I trust her
got her own ways to please.

Waltzing in Stupidity,
Afraid of what they made.
Tick tock of cuckoo clock
And the Reaper's blade.
I want to wake.

Made them all different,
They want to be the same.
Material Possessions drive them insane.
A field sown with seeds of
the New World to be,
Faceless they stand now
infected, deceased.


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Sunday Blues

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