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Like hardpan desert,
Scars line my body.
The memories fade,
But these lines remain.
Like a grotesque roadmap,
Leading to my ghost town heart.
I trace the lines with shaking hands,
remembering every journey.
Vowing to never come back,
I break down and create a new road.
I watch disconnected
At the creation of this new lane.
Little sharp edged workers,
tearing through the map.
Always doing what they’re told,
The only argument coming from my heart.
It says I need no more roads,
No more rivers, interstates.
I look down at my new lanes,
Melancholy sweetness eases my mind.
No more for today,
But who knows what the future holds.

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