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The Fields by the Gate
When I was young, I would often run about in the fields.
The fields were not too far from my small weathered town,
but far enough that I could feel alive.
I would run down the dirt between the plants only to
watch the dust kick up from my feet.
It was easier to breathe the dust than to be in that town.
The irritation I felt on the paved streets teased my anger.
How I hated the reflection of glass on passing shops.
I want to know more than this old broken town.
I wish to see more than these wooden buildings.
Seeing the same signs, walking down the same sidewalk.
Everything here is infuriating knowing it won't ever change.
But soon, I will pack my clothes and sentiments then
I will leave and it will be the biggest relief to be free.
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