I took a ride on the railroad
floated in the puddles of muck.
the boots were drenched with mud
my mother
she tells me to listen
and learn from her mistake what is right
and whatever left behind will surely feel
the scorn of time and fear of the past
lead me to wonder...
who is behind?
the chocolate laden door? why is it like this?
my house is as empty as my
bank account run dry
-wes edmond
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