Of ending up in a poem
All the words crowding together
In stations and in airports
Struggling to catch
The last flights out
But the invading armies of silence
With their victories of defeat
Come rumbling down the street
While on the rooftop the poem is screaming
To be rescued and lifted away
By some helicopter or boat
But who will come to finish it
When the world is long abandoned
Before the poem is ever done
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