All These Words

If the center space
is fool
and the revolver
is just a door

Why not
hurry through
What are we
waiting for?

Take up your
weary arms
break down
your little tent

Will the world
at large
even wonder
where you went?

Streams await
beyond the fence
that many have
crossed ahead

Perhaps some day
They'll read
all these words
we've said

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