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I should have been a pair of ragged claws. Scuttling across the floors of silent seas. Put your MP3 player on shuffle, and write down the first line of the first twenty songs. Post the poem that results. Sick of standing with my hands in my pockets. Drifting on refuse, parade through the town square. I was down to my very last song. After all our dreams went down. Arrested on charges of unemployment.
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