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Irony In a Small Town
I think I'll live in the city
whenever I leave here.
This small town isn't right for me,
filled with people who ask too many questions
and give too many answers.
I think I can hear
the five boroughs
calling my name.
Their hollow voices
mix with horns honking
and people shouting,
but it's better there--
I know it is.
Maybe I want people to forget
that I ever existed
to never think of me again
to never speak my name.
Maybe I hope they don't
ask about me.
Or maybe I want them
to wonder about me.
Maybe I want them
to talk about me.
I want them to say,
"Did you hear about that Megan girl? She moved to New York City. She was always so quiet, so shy, and she never liked crowds. I wonder why she moved there."
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