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Poetry, Day 7: Neighborhood, Ballad, Assonance


The streets are decorated there
In dirty paper hues.
The beauty seems to disappear
Beneath the litter strewn.

The whole town seems to wear a shroud
A deeper shade of grey.
The sun is masked behind the clouds
And rarely comes to play.

As people walk their faces bent
Against the bitter rain,
Those souls who leave wish to repent;
those who stay refuse to change.

Red bricked houses line the pavements
Like tightly packed sardines.
Inside, souls yearn for the day when
One can fulfill life’s dreams.

15 thoughts on “Tameside

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