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Downtrodden
March 18, 2014
The road was endless,
Falling behind the horizon,
Never to be seen again.
Oh derelict world,
With your cold, begotten roads,
How cold can you be?
We travel and trek alone,
Down this impossibly long road,
No hope abound or ingrained within.
But we travel anyways,
It was a necessity,
Because staying still was so much worse.
© Maria H., Cincinnati, OH
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