Christopher Champagne

All day, confusion
Slowly puts an end
On what is shyly called
Solemn oblivion
That ruins the few
Places I roam

We'll throw away the tapestries
And all the flowers on windowsills
That were never brought

Because with tumors
Come many plants
The names of whiches
I don't even know

A model house
Hid in the church
Of a small town
Where I wasn't even born

I see the faces
I see the consequences
And laugh

I don't even know
Will I ever grow?
It hardly ever glows
It hardly ever glows



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