this is not a poem:
dear obama.
today i wore a shirt with your face on it. Today i danced in the streets with you proudly displayed. I am so far away, i still sing our name out loud.
you give me hope, that maybe the boys will be ok after all.
make me sadder i left america, make me want to preform.
la la la la. obama. obama. oohhbama.
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Skeletons in Prose Nightmares from cultures visited Replenished over horizons reversed this is the way the ground envelops me
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