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R Wayne Mar 2016
it’s just not the right time,
it’s just not meant to be,
face rough, half shaven,
a man cried quietly.

his voice was crackin’,
sad he was just getting by,
feet deep in the concrete,
complaining as to why.

I should have followed through,
the jobs just can’t keep up,
bills are flowing over,
the times are always rough,

he said his love had left,
he saw her never turn back,
it wounded his direction,
he had fallen off the track.

now he laughs with his friend,
it echoes through the hall,
conversations of escape,
peddlin' plans to leave it all.

and I sat maybe two seats from,
these friends and their words,
I listened to them contently,
they were singing like the birds.

and I hope that they find,
the mind to follow through,
to leave all that’s made,
to make you not like you.

all that’s made to frighten,
all that’s made to make you choose,
leave it all before you turn,
into one with cafe blues.
R Wayne Mar 2016
My mind was metal trapped,
on a midnight melted hour.
Standing softly on my guard,
I had fallen from my tower.
I tumbled and I tolled,
in my heart for a time,
then watched the world come crashing,
come flowering in rhyme.

— The End —