Break Time
I was promised a break by a man on the street.
He looks me in the eye, take the break he is begging to me.
They will be plenty of food you don’t need to worry about anything.
I wrote many poems in my break time.
I was sometimes by myself but I didn’t cry.
I looked for him one-day but saw a cremated soul.
There who walked with me side by side name appeared covered in greetings.
The tired old legs need to rest so give me a seat.
I wish I could have another break.
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