Tales of a Poor Poge by Richard Palmer - HTML preview
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ESCAPE
Let us go now, you and I,
And flee these corrupted streets
Ripe with our sickness, poverty and pain.
Let us be lovers now, you and I,
And with sweating bodies and groping
Hands sate the torment of this dying hole,
Our slow rotting slum.
This night we will love
Then flee until the next time
Our bodies again couple.
As we seek a way out
And find none.