the marvelous ferocity of a
dream foregone
to curb their fears,
the wails of money (many)
like the sliced mangoes reeking of fish sauce
that you put up with
with a half-baked smile
like the DOM you spread your legs for
to seal the deal
and satisfy the barangay
and what of childhood dreams
or the promises to keep
and the faint sign of life
out there, somewhere?
the star seems all so near now
yet so distant,
because truly, you'd much rather be
elsewhere.
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