Best Poem of C.R. Ebowski

The War Room
Everyday I visit the war room.
O.D. green clothing lines a closet
All dress right dress, two fingers apart.

Plaques with pathetic inscriptions are hung.
Metals dangle from a dusty shadowbox.
With the American flag, worn next to my heart.

Pictures of time once lived accents the awards
Cheap . . .
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Running Away
all that can be heard
is the pitter-patter of my feet
as I run away


I had friends that tried to help
offering me everything
under the smothered sun
but still I ran

nothing feels better
than running

drowning in pity
swallowing magic pills
handfuls . . .
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