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Curb-Side Cigarette
I stand on the curb in the mocking rain feeling the cars blowing my coat around my legs.
A solitary soul wanting to cry, but the sky does it for me.
What you're doing to me isn't fair...it isn't fair because you don't know how you hurt me!
Not that it would matter if you did.
The rain would still fall...my tears still wouldn't.
The pain would still crush me like a not-quite-finished cigarette.
©1998-2004 J. Gardiner
