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when our 6th grade teacher looked us
the worn-out children
of the towns
the grand- children
of the factories
in the eye
and said that we,
would become nothing more than
road sweepers
I asked myself
If there wasn’t any poetry
in leaves.
And if
not
then where else?
I always liked to read
but never to write.
I thought it was dull
to write down the words
that have already run
away.
It’s like chasing your own tail.
And we,
we were never dogs.
However much
you believed otherwise.
It is no art
to repeat
art.
There is no glory
in
stolen words.
And so let me sweep the paths
walked by people for the first time
let me pick up the papers and the dirt
newly created.
let me walk trough leaves
freshly fallen.
I may be nothing to you
but I am all I’ve ever wanted.
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Such creative poetry and it's quite deep too :)
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