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“Buried within the Brushes of the Parochial School”

What emerges

When so much is left behind

As under weather

The pious

Gusts of entropy

Become the sociological wasteland

 

Doling adornments of

Identities, multi-

Billion dollar with

Less clothing every year,

Can

We reach into the glove compartment and find

True individualism

In a lonely gray hat

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