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While searching through my childhood dresser, I stumbled across some old poems that I had written back in the eighth grade. Some were okay and some were, well, “cute,”as my teacher put it. One thing is for sure, however, they shouldn’t be seen by human eyes.

But, this is how much I love you all. So, may I present to you for your viewing pleasure, a poem from the vault, as written by a 13-year-old Leroy Brumage.


Midnight Run

I am Midnight Run,

Who runs from nothing.

I run from the wind,

And from French Poodles.

I run from little raindrops,

And huge crowds of people.

I run from clouds of fluff,

And I run from cats.

I guess I’m scared,

And all alone.

I guess I’m chicken,

And Midnight Run.



*As a note, I have no fucking clue what this is about. I am guessing that this is my attempt to be “deep.” Yep, I’m about as deep as an empty bathtub here.*