as kids we were bound by an understanding & allegience to the same radio station
picked pockets of respect thrown like paintbombs,
we played in the colours,
& hoped for the best, & dealt with the worst,
a rubber band of versatile warriors, all fighting little battles in our heads, and smiling at each other, and holding hands, and telling everyone we were ok, to convince ourselves it's true.
& when the tears like beached whales slipped out and traversed their facial landscape tradjectory we hugged out the air and whispered about the secrets that would make everything better.
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