His town isn’t like
It used to be,
Main street was always
Bustling with people
Living their lives,
Sharing some conversation
About the weather or something
Going on at the mine.
He walks down tattered streets,
Boarded windows announcing
The memory of former tenants,
An occasional dour face averting
His gaze, nothing to do
Down here anymore and
Nobody who cares about any of it.
Jaw clenching, he vows to force
Someone to listen by voting for
The same people who did this.
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