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My soul
Like an old piece of gum
Chewed up and spit out
Flavor exhausted

Sometimes it is played with
Perhaps a child with dirty filthy fingers
It stretches and snaps
And eventually breaks

Or maybe it winds up on someone’s shoe
A madman?
A widow?
A rock star?

It could wind up under a desk
For years
Until some goodie two shoes virgin wanabee
Removes it
And throws it into the trash

Perhaps it gets re-chewed?
And spit out again
At least it got a second chance

Somewhere new
Somewhere silent
Or even somewhere better
Than where it came from

My soul
Like an old piece of gum
Where will you wind up today?