Crossing over
  to what most would call good

My feelings inline
  my words understood

No chair or wip
  do the verses require

All teeth now removed
  in fear of your ire

Crossing over
  to what some would proclaim

The lines neatly ordered
  with nothing profane

Those tight little smiles
  they clap and they cheer

Words lost of all meaning
  —truth farther than near

(Dallas Texas: June, 2018)