Catching flows

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Once, I was a ferry,

covered in fresh paint and oiled mechanisms

and I was not this sinking ship,

Thrown back by my passengers and owners,

who I used to move forward on their daily trips

 

Once, I carried, and  sailed over the river,

wasn’t stuck like this on the shore

And now I’m rotting away and

I don’t know where I belong or what to do anymore.

 

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