Poetry

Second Choice – A Poem

My loves, they come and go like trains,
Steal away, leave the rain, never to come again.
This is the bread and butter of it all,
A stutter, small, a christ – broke in front of you, watch me fall.
You’ll be second choice until you’re dead,
Always words instead, always words for other men instead.
The cream of dreams assembles bots, bits enact a code,
Sent the machines scattered – searching for you, on the road.

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