Those who write love songs
Should be shot on sight
Lined against a wall
Shown a grainy stream
Of their significant others
Weeping in pain
We drink champagne
To their broken spirit
And laugh about
Feeling dead inside
Emboldened by rage
Growing like the wall
Flowers between buildings
Speaking out is insolence
No love sweeter
Than breathing in
Cosmic dust
Feelings are a distraction
From the death
Of the universe


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