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Joseph Thomson Mar 2017
Drifting away.
No place here to say,
That I do want to stay.

I'd rather lay
In my last day,
Than continue to play
In this way

Namaste
Joseph Thomson Mar 2017
Spreading my words around like bumble bees with the pollen.
Spreading far like the birds when the sea is calling.
Spreading throughout your brain like a gentle virus.
These words calm you, yet infect you with darkness.
A man with out a cause, a man with no applause,
as everything he does is littered in flaws.
To truly know this man is not an easy task.
This man will only show you his mask.
He's deep like the great abyss of the ocean.
Like it's inhabitants, he's darkness in motion.
He's got many layers like the journey through an onion.
No mistaking this man for Paul Bunion.
His strength is depleted, and will, he has not.
What once was a man of life is now merely a robot.
Most times he dwells in the man who he believes is broken.
Leveled by his peers, his words became unspoken.
He used to stand out from the crowd.
Now he drifts through it on the cushion of a dark cloud.
Negativity is this man's birthright.
He will carry that burden until he can no longer stand upright.

— The End —