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Though you?re gone I sometimes trace

Your steps across the sidewalk

To our painted handprints on the back

Of a neighborhood watch signpost

And old anarchy hearts drawn

By twelve-year-old fingertips

Declaring ?love is freedom?

And beneath in slanted script

The addendum ?Freedom is dead?

So transitive properties imply

That all we feel is posthumous

And so be it, then, let us lie!

Let us leave behind only tears

That we may salt the Earth,

And let this city simmer with knowledge

That once we stood here, both,

Once we stood with painted palms

Pressed against this freezing metal

And declared ?Let us be dead!?

Left these locks to be dismantled

Just blustery autumnal arrogance

With peace to calm your violent eyes

Left wide with passionate precision

Locked upon a gate left drawn

To rest assured the class division

Locked away from twisting blues

The rescue efforts all delayed

So be it, then, ?Let them take our hearts

Before we let their pulse be staid!?

But ?Deviant? they named you

And they ran you out of town

Then ?Devious? I named myself

And wore it as a crown

And took your place as head escape

For some still sought denial

Constructed new communities

Let shatter, just for style.

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