Protest
What hangs out there is the effigy of dreams that couldn’t be burnt to please someone’s ego nor could it be sold as a piece of art
there’s no protest value after years in the drawing room it derides memories
The poem describes a strange object hanging in a room: an effigy made from dreams. Normally an effigy is burned at a protest, but this one was never burned, because doing so would only have satisfied someone's ego.
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