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Missing the Point.

Guest thepoet

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Guest thepoet

The concrete creeps

Beneath our offbeat feet;

Another obsolete street,

People filling the void.

We often speak,

But not from wanting to teach.

We don't concede defeat:

We're just contributing noise.

There's higher powers,

And there's dying flowers;

There's sunshine, showers;

There's misery, joy.

We yearn for love,

A sense of purpose once,

But to be verbally blunt,

I think we're missing the point.

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