TC ( / )


All around the next corner
something seeming different
only the sameness hidden
underneath gives it a beauty
that doesn't mince the words that speak,
they never mattered,
it's only home, anywhere the trick
is pulled, only home, where
sorrows become heaping handfuls
Side-steps and full circles
can't replace the sense,
the race, the day, the place
Only those roads that sit empty,
offer a view of the future,
stretching miles in front

by Timmy Curran

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