Nearly a month passed (and nothing much has changed (found poem from 2016)

I’m a broken crowbar,

an out of work scarecrow.

Most of what I am is nothing

anyone who needs to know.

Like stagnant water

as it dissipates fumes:

Like a child feeling neglected

Because he’s the one not abused.

Improbable: like fire underwater;

Impractical: like ice on snow;

Like a politicians’ lies:

must grow to accept it.

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