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Wit ten times over

08.07.20

I am a traveler without mention
wonder the streets without direction
just waiting for the train to leave the station
 
And I might take the wrong lane
or go the right way with the wrong train
but that won’t mean the end of my chain
It will just mean a pause,
and a longer time with no applause
 
For I am my own boss
and will not let myself off
without first stepping on the moss
growing on the hard, dark brown bark
Painted before me by Bob Ross
And all of those on photos and magazines,
most, surrounded by costumes and kerosene
Trying to stop life with a count in
(1, 2, 3)...

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