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Let's workshop this poem about the complexities of despair, the desire for dramatic gestures as a cry for help in a cold world, and the reality of fear and self-preservation

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In his drunken ungluing
he thought It sure would show her 
if he lie there to let the train

take him, but he just passed out
on the tracks in anger
at himself for being, yet again, 

too scared to go that far—
the feeling of being owned
along the rocks, as good as real.

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