Poetry · Writing

i am hotpocket

i don’t stand a chance

against the sun

but someone has to

he stands tall without a rival

burning the less worthy

like a hot pocket

going around in a circle

unopposed

talkin’ reckless

can never get near ’em

that’s not the world i want to remember

if i exist

will my face be in tact

slippin’ off a plate

wet dishes

if we exist

past four hundred times

over three hundred tics

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