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No part of this poetry should be reproduced in any form without written consent from the author, Joe DiMino, who retains all rights: contact

"No One" (by Joe DiMino)

There was a young man,
Lost—and refusing to be found;
Despite the coaxing
Went deeper to hiding
Within myth,
At the foot
Of mountainous shadow,
Where nameless things
Floated in an out, unfettered…

So he called himself “No one”
During the awakenings—
Current ringing in his ears,
A thousand drummers
Out of beat
Ranting their sticks;
They came again,
Shocks of white hats
On white stallions—
Weapons of infinite bullets—
Hollywood to them;
So no one dies
Just “No One!”

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