Guilt (a poem-ish).
Guilt
No one knows, no one. Flags half down, world mourns, hero gone.
One day leaping over rivers,
stopping bullets,
knocking down rockets,
cracking glaciers over burning buildings.
A hero, the hero, hero of our time,
this time, I’m no zero somewhat, I don’t think I’m ujsuu a blue collar traveler in this world, building homes, vacationing south in the winter.
I’m just a bird, a bird, a little bird, and if Supermman would be been paying attention, he wouldn’t run into my beak.
Poor blind Superman, poor Splatman.
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People who falls.
So we did some more date night fantasy downsizing
Just a little, we’d lose not much, just maybe one percent of the romanticizing.
New York City gets boring after a while,
And Paris, I’ve heard, isn’t that fun or worthwhile.