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Comments about Tom Balcombe
For years and years they are kept,
In a tight space.
In a cage, a tank of tears, separate from life.
They swim, up, down. Rolling around, back and fourth,
People clap, satisfied.
Underneath, truth lies.
Down below, into the viewing tunnel.
You can watch them roll, around,
Around and around.
Forever they copy, forever the same.
Repeating that turn, they roll, they twist.
People laugh at them, hollow smiles.
Dull as boredom, dark as death.
Hell in disguise, holding their breath.
Children giggle, enjoying themselves.
They can’t live, not for...