The Sadness Always Stays

running up the street
from then till now
tree to chair to mud
and hanging on is true
survival can’t be counted
friends are for keeping
and forgetting
nice as you are
nice as you were

all the times of rolling mix
with those of singing
and friends and faces fall
distinctly real
a travesty

fishing as for living
hooked on purity
this little distance
this gaping whole

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poem by Christian Carbone
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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