BROKEN 
 

It's raining outside 
and everywhere else. 
Bits of broken me lie about the loungeroom, 
trying not to stain the carpet, 
kinda hoping I'll get stepped on. 
no-one even asks about the sugar in my coffee, 
one lump or two, I wish they'd say. 
It's just a short cab ride to down, 
thought I might stay the night 
or maybe go insane for the weekend. 
 

- Smithy


 
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to Poets
to Moongate