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The Solace of Success

By Peter Scott

Standing on a vacant stairwell
Staring at the dust
Sitting in the corner
A home so desolate
And destitute
How I long to sit with the dust
While standing on the next flight
Content with the notion
It will never be all right
A single passerby cometh
Echoes in the night
A fluorescent silhouette
Drawn from unnatural lights
Longing for that corner of dust
Instead my desires are tormented
Taunted
Teased with a commanding walk
Down the stairs.

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