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Things went south.
He started to look at things differently.
It was an old thing but it bothered him.
He had a thing for her.
A lot of things on his mind.
The thing of it was what?
“No big thing,” his dad would say.
He was waiting for something to happen.
Nothing helped.
He was angry about things at work.
No one had a good thing to say.
He could see something was out of whack.
“Don’t say ‘thing,’” the teacher lectured. “Be specific.”
He remembered everything.
Copyright 2023 Baron Wormser
Baron Wormser’s many books include the collection of poems Unidentified Sighing Objects (CavanKerry 2015).
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Powerful poem.
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Damn. I apologize for my earlier comment. I somehow missed the title of the piece. I read it as a gentle push against generalizations. Please forgive my early morning fog. But to read it again with different focus hit hard.
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Gre
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Heartbreaking…
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Yes, every line contains the word ’thing’. Perhaps this represents the way the shooter has reduced himself and other people to objects, rather than sentient beings?
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Well done!
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