Dreams of Incarceration
By Túpac IV
A police officer approached
I was calm Indifferent
He asked me a question with that fake sternness of a cop
I told him I had been working on my art
“Do you know what artwork is?” I asked, challenging him.
He didn’t budge and continued his move.
I stopped him, breaking through to his passionate heart, “Do you sir? Not paintings, but art-work”
I saw rage boil up inside him, but he fought it and walked towards my car (I was standing in front of my car)
I woke up
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