call to reaction

well i can see
your old notes
hidden underneath
those broken lines

a constant ramble
of mundane complaints
only to fall upon
rows of deaf ears

highlighted points
of intriguing tone
on scraps of paper
from closed laundromats

soon to be disregarded
with the rest of you
broken and belittled
in need of termination

like old transcripts
from post war hearts
will stop beating
once the horn sounds


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