It’s Fucked
It was right here,
This neverending wheat field that scratches at your hands and itches your ankles.
It was right here when I asked you a question.
When I asked a life changing question.
It was the time of your life; for mine too.
A love song seemed to have appeared in the past like the wheat swaying in that field.
“Did you fuck Rob?”
The wheat sways in love tinted glasses.
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