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Again the noises out side are growing.
There is talk in the streets and around.
The kind of words that make people…
afraid.
“Not here!”
You want to stomp your foot and scream.
You want to say something to some one.
Who will listen? Who should listen?
The people gather together,
the real people,
the ones that;
sweat, bleed and die.
They speak in low tones…
hopeful that the powers that be…
are not corrupt.
It is a flawed perception of facts,
fed to us by farmers of deceit.
Control, invasion, evasion,
Celery sticks.
Sticks.
Copyright © Ann Foster | Year Posted 2019
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