This poem is part of a class poetry project inspired by the song "Old Glory" By the band Harvey Milk.
How do you think the T-shirts feel,
full of holes
and ripping?
Have you ever felt this way?
I have,
the time
my mother
threw away my snails.
How do you think the skateboard feels
when it cracks,
splintering,
poking,
scraping cement?
Do your guts ever feel like that?
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