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Am I lost?
Have I been drowning myself?
Was I wrong to think it can work?
Didn't I give it what it costs?

Have I been blind to the fact?
Did I refuse hindsight?
Were my eyes shut to the light?
Was I engaged in an unnecessary fight?

Was I wrong to be positive?
Is my yes nature a curse?
Should I have accepted defeat?
Am I blind to the fact?

Am I too strong headed?
Should I be more negative?
Should I lose before fights?
Did I lose from the start?

Was I wrong to fight?
Were you not worth the strive?
Should I have stayed off outright?
Should I have fought the bite?
Your opinions count.. Drop'em.
Perhaps the earth is floating,
I do not know.
Perhaps the stars are little paper cutups
made by some giant scissors,
I do not know.
Perhaps the moon is a frozen tear,
I do not know.
Perhaps God is only a deep voice
heard by the deaf,
I do not know.

Perhaps I am no one.
True, I have a body
and I cannot escape from it.
I would like to fly out of my head,
but that is out of the question.
It is written on the tablet of destiny
that I am stuck here in this human form.
That being the case
I would like to call attention to my problem.

There is an animal inside me,
clutiching fast to my heart,
a huge carb.
The doctors of Boston
have thrown up their hands.
They have tried scalpels,
needles, poison gasses adn the like.
The crab remains.
It is a great weight.
I try to forget it, go about my business,
cook the broccoli, open the shut books,
brush my teeth and tie my shoes.
I have tried prayer
but as I pray the crab grips harder
and the pain enlarges.

I had a dream once,
perhaps it was a dream,
that the crab was my ignorance of God.
But who am I to believe in dreams?
Positive atmosphere of times past
Now wishes built in dream brackets
That perfect times are now past
Smashed away with huge rackets

Dark clouds reign supreme
Day or night? Hard to distinguish
Darkness overshadows our existence
Hearts and souls wallow in anguish

They tell of a voice, the bearer unknown
It carries a light with extremely dim glow
Forcefully,blindly we chase what we don’t know
The closer we get,the dimmer the glow

How soon can the pregnant plain above clear its stain
‘las our inventions proven vain
Do we keep moving, Or remain alongside predecessors in pain?
Cos sooner or later, they say “it will rain”

— The End —