Life is bubblegum
and now the flavor
has faded
and my jaw aches
from the lies I tell
when they ask
"how are you"
The cynic in me
gnashes his yellowed teeth
as I write this-
my fuel is hope.
I hope every day
every single photocopied minute
for a chance to flee
run away from everything
and everyone
and find what I want,
whatever that is.
Every day I look
for the rasp
hidden in this cake-
vanilla.
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