Not there

Tell me I am not there.

I am not there
In the humid cloud soaked morning sun, the clock striking four.

I am not there
With the banal bermudas walking the morning .

I am not there
In the pot bellies Swaying with beer.

I am not there
In Anachronistic tee shirts wet with Mid life exhaustion.

I am not there
In tandem with ordinary morning gossip.

I am not there
in domestic alleys and taunting field games.

I am not there
On that colourblind park bench.

I am not there
In earfuls of private symphony.

I am not there
In a youth of whispered regret.

I am not there
In this city and her pot holed dreams.

I am not there
In this city, and her pot holed dreams.

But tell me,
She will be there in death!

– Goth Sunflower

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