we half a decade past
painted walls
we abraded our work
the paint today
we watched the walls
cry the orange green
red rivulets
tears run into and down themselves
we graffitists purged the walls
of our personal scribbles
extinguished the peculiar loudspeakers
we set up on those two insipid blank dimensions
we did not weep
with them
they stare out as they did before
we gifted them heartfelt impurities
those two dimensions are and will be enthralled
in themselves we did this to them we gave them back
we were not tinged
by dull and cutting regret
although we might have sometime wished we
hadn't bothered brushing keys onto their locks
we scraped their keys out of their faces
scraped them into their delapidated cells
do we have new walls
to paint we liberators perhaps no
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