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Day of the Dads

On the day of the dads
we all woke up at the same time,
crawling out of our lairs,
holding our morning root beers.
We saw circles where we wanted triangles.
We could feel the push of time against our faces.
This poem was suppose to be happy.
Where's the remote?
I can't find the remote.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2018




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