Personal Narrative: A Place In Benny's Poem

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The music pounded from inside the well lit club. It was a place I knew all too well. It had become like a second home to me. I knew it in and out. I had familiarized myself with every person, every dark room, and every corner. My heels clicked against the wet pavement as I ran across the street to the door. The glow from the neon sign that read “Lines” washed over my skin. This place is more than just music and parties. You have to look deeper, break it down to the atoms of its foundation like I did. First, you have Benny, the bouncer. Some people would stand in line for thirty minutes just for Benny to tell them they were not on the list. There was no list between me and Benny. We were past that. As you enter though the main doors, it opens
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