I wish to be a poet as a lovely family sits nearby, already decaying enjoying their dinner in a silent booth. A young couple of fifty years leaves together not holding hands, bodies of ash spent as their dead cigarettes. I sip my coffee wishing to be a poet, I wish to live a poet. The corner conversations are only daydreams, blind daydreams to be forgotten as their last murdered fly. I finish my third cigarette, one for each family come and gone, now waiting alone for another glance at humanity, while van Gogh paints a path I wish to die a poet.Birth sign: Sagittarius
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