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Warehouse Project

A poem about raving. How exhilarating.

By Kate RothwellPublished 7 years ago 1 min read
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Technology to technicolor

Dust and dark to dance

Slow and rhythmic tempo

To our indoctrinated trance

In and out we trudge

Our political routine

Through the broken doors

Once closed we’ll never leave

Pity turned to power

In the hands of those within

Diluted expectations

What a twisted kind of win

Hours and days are relative

Time holds no divide

The walls stay soaked in memory

As the years drift on by

From the birth of a new era

To the chaos of the next

Roles played there may change

But the city never rests

A stage of revolution

Of industry and light

To bodies slick with sweat

The new symphony of night

inspirational
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About the Creator

Kate Rothwell

Hello! I am a 20 year old aspiring artist and poet. I'm also massively excited by all things geeky, specifically super heroes and skyrim. Ahh. Keep your eyes peeled for poetic updates, and super hero movie hype. (And more. Maybe)

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