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Paper Bag


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Paper bag

What a Drag

Never Full for Kelly and I

As tourists toss an empathetic sigh

She vacantly gazes into the western sun

As I ask myself what can be done

An ailing Kelly

And an unfed belly

Engeneders the tale of my failing

Milky twilight splashes us

Kelly, chokes, “Troy, will I bite the dust?’

No, Kelly you’re doing well

As I request God to spare her hell

“What’s the price for happiness any how?â€

Two more shillings than we’re making now

This money constantly evades me

There must be something to save me

And Kelly God Damn it!â€

From this curable ailment

But You Strike me down

Back down

Upon this dusty lane

With two dead ends

Without an opportunity to make amends

Strewn with empty beer bottles

And emaciated Youth

Please God, Tell me the Truth

Will Kelly Die?

And reside along the poor roadside

For the rest of me years

to lament Kelly’s youth with guilty tears

Of potential careers, memorable cheers

We shared together

An amber robe of morning mist

unfurled across the sky

I gave Kelly a kiss

and bid her farewell and tossed a sigh

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