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Run For The Roaches

Since this stay I've come to feel at home in this infested hotel room where, as the only jockey brave enough, me aboard Lady Luck, I win the roses in the daily run for the roaches.

Life's a human race where Truth is lost by blinders. I win what is real.

These roaches are real. Really thick as thoroughbreds, and just as fast. And Lady Luck would survive a nuclear blast. So, bugler, toot that horn. Be real. I got Lady Luck, and she's no unicorn.



Published by Other People's Flowers,2019

Sunday, March 31, 2019
Topic(s) of this poem: addiction,loneliness,sadness
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