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Monday, August 17, 2020

poem


by anonymous




i read a book
without a page
I opened a door
behind a stage

a door to a room
neither red nor blue
or happy or sad
or false or true

the floor was white
and the walls were too
but the ceiling had
an unearthly hue


the room was empty
except for a chair
i wondered what
it was doing there

i waited to see
if someone would appear
but nobody did
so i just stood there

i am standing there still
with nothing better to do
that is my story
what about you?



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