I don't know your dead people,
never tiptoed through their tombstones
nor danced within where they dwell,...
be that heaven or hell
But my dead people are all too active,
wearing shells
ringing bells
singing broken fairy tales
within my mind once more
or maybe twice
or at least thrice for sure
And As Always,
I'm Amazed i'm not one of them
Coincidence within Clint plays,
and Fate cares only for its own whims
Their voices haven't changed,
though I've been many times rearranged
There are still lessons to learn
so I still lean in,
eager to listen...
Innocence screams forevermore once you've ***** it
unless you forgive your ignorance arrogance
and embrace the growth the losses let you posit
**** pieces of yourself
then decide to Hate your new Self
and you'll **** yourself
You can be perfect
or as approximate as possible
and cancer kills you at 35
But if the passion for the path was pretty much perfect
and the intensity of the effort was always palpable
(and appeared as effortless as it was selfless)
then all those you inspired are that much more alive
Yeah, that's the poem for now...couple Main characters weren't heard from, except to say "you have to be up in 5 hrs for a ride and then chores and then work....so go to sleep, or I will put you to sleep. Check out the nametag grandma, you're in my world now"...wait, how did I slip into Happy Gilmore...