"shackling" poems
At the Zoo
Patriots and faux exhibit and binge on synonyms of liberty printed on beer and underwear
Advertising what should be unspoken and inspired to pervert and romanticize
Preludes to the parades and finale above us all
Weeks of saturated irony
Cuckoo bird irony and BBQ
As they reform Phoenix, rebirth of distractions and thievery
Predators in ally ways pursing America's diamonds and legs
Then gunpowder
Gunpowder of colors and cuckoos
Layers of streets in gunpowder
Towns built of gunpowder
Sky is gunpowder
We are born addicted to led and gunpowder
Gunpowder ****** in the air
Success, display and diversion and more gunpowder to ingest.
The Grand Finale
The Volta of the evening
The hammer of the judge
*** appeal of death and nature flexing it's muscles-
show us some skin!
Covering your ears
Eyes fastened-
Ready to burrow back to mothers womb
Binged and free
Chinese celebration hijacked
Red, White and Blue
And a moment of silence
Orchestrated onomatopoeia in heaven
Chorus of arousal on Earth
Band marching war machines in hell
The showdown of 241 years!
This freedom we are all grateful to only talk about
Only free to battle shackling intoxication
Men and women tugging extra weighted offspring
Sulking for indoors and portable addiction
Chanting three letter obedience
God being counted by his blessings
Fear and Statism in every breathe for salvation from our stick swatted enemies
Checkpoints that serve and protect asking for a toll;
liberty synonyms.
Arresting the too free
At the Zoo,
The cuckoos regaining reality.
The phoenix red eye and held under oath
To the next day where we are back
To hate each others freedom, again.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
Love is a ***** soup going stale but steaming like it's brand new;
And I'm Oliver twist walking up to the *** with a rusty spoon full of desire and hope asking for more but getting none.
Love is a Doctor gathering dead bodies and shackling them up in chains;
And I'm a green freak with Frankenstein bolts ****** through my head walking around with only a mumble to muster trying to love people who just want to run away.
Love is a white paper rolled so finely, full of sedatives and drugs;
And I'm sitting by a fire reaching in for a log to smoke.
Love is puzzle made by Einstein and Sam Loyd;
And I'm a child with eyes made of glass and hands made of thorns crying to my mother because that puzzle is a *****
Love is Navy Seal training on a beach covered in cold water spilling blood for a chance;
And I'm a pot-smoking hippie who holds up signs and tells soldiers they’re monsters as I take a puff of death.
Love is a ten-syllable word compacted into one;
And I'm a hooked on phonics children’s thesaurus struggling to find a comparison that I can actually pronounce.
Love is a white egg timer sitting on the fridge set to all nines;
And I'm a busy housewife waiting to cook dinner at the sound of its bell.
Love is a robber with a 45 in his belt;
And I'm an eager dad trying to protect his family with a wooden stick.
Love is hot coffee from a luxury beverage shop;
And I'm a plastic party cup melting away.
Love is a doctor with a PHD in heart surgery;
And I'm a sick child waiting with his mother with no healthcare ******* on a free doctor’s-office lollypop.
Love is a huge pink eraser;
And I'm a graphite pencil struggling to write while me and the eraser fight.
Love is a pickup truck speeding through town drunk;
And I'm a lost puppy running through the same intersection looking for my owner.
Love is meant for fish;
And I'm a bird.
Dec 21, 2012
Dec 21, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
Not Particularly living up to his name,
Fear stands with open arms,
Welcoming me with a smile.
He is Handsome.
Standing tall with no suspicious qualities;
Beautiful eyes carry no emotion,
Crimson orbs, fiery yet tranquil.
He is Kind.
Like the boyfriend you've always wanted,
He will embrace you with warmth,
Completely faithful in your name.
He is perfect.
And yet, he is what flaws mankind.
Stalking your mind, making you wish
you could walk away from his embrace.
He is persistent.
Making you hesitate with decisions,
Closing your mouth before you can speak,
Making your eyes surge with eerie anticipation.
He is aggressive.
Knocking you over with ominous thoughts,
Choking you, restraining your voice.
Shackling you, turning you powerless.
He isn't real.
Conjured up by outside voices,
By your own nature, and though you know that,
he is more real than any person.
He is Fear.
And he will consume you.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:40 PM UTC
well...
she didn't want me...
because i didn't
want to do **** with her...
and because i cooked
better than her;
or as one homosexual said:
**** *** isn't really the norm
in homosexuality,
most **** *** takes place
between heterosexual couples;
maybe i just don't feel
like talking about curtains
and napkins growing
old in front of a television screen?
i think it's called companionship,
without the authority brigade to
get alimony and other stipends
for a degree designating milking-it...
as might require a woman shackling
a partner with a few witnesses,
like priest, lawyer... psychiatrist;
god they're scared... they don't even
fear murdering you,
and when they try to, they just
bellow out: 'my brother is dead!
my brother is dead!' no, he's alive,
he should have been dead 8 years ago,
but you miscalculated;
they're just scared of something
that doesn't resemble a cage,
as every housewife might tell you:
a duck in a cage kept for petting
rather than sloth for quickened
fattening and eating will
make the one eating it loose the plot...
the duck will just pretend to be stupid.
Feb 9, 2016
Feb 9, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
∙∙∙◦◦•◎•◦◦∙∙∙
Seems to be a strange day
a cold in the breeze
in the months of May
screeching’s of the door
a mist at the windows
broken pane
The room was lonely
as the leaves, out whirling
a thump at the ceiling top,
rolling, shackling
like those ogling cats
for a savoring mouse
From an ominous weather
to the whispering waters
a crack brought my most
—attention
uncanny things lurking
came falling within
*I saw streamers
faking shimmers
I saw glitters
but aren't gold
I saw diamonds
yet it wasn't snow*
A strong wind gushing
hoist the storm came
toiling, warping
heaven and earth
were felonious, winced
and everything was settled
Crystal drops touching
the tender heart abrupt
shattered glass striking
a sorry won't be sought
memories engrave nothing
flagrant it is to mend
Crystal drops falling
true friends come for once,
an astral to a feeling
stalwart is to be keeping
till when, twas its end
and all of this begins again
Aug 23, 2017
Aug 23, 2017 at 10:12 AM UTC
I almost made it to the finish line
but somewhere along I took a wrong turn
segregation’s aftermath still lingering
self inflicted prejudice over one’s skin abstained
self antagonism over one’s curl pattern deeply rooted
self oppugnancy over one’s own race persistent
I know I’m not on the right course
yet blindly I continue
shackling the dependent to me
as i spiral down this cascade
too intimidated to speak out
too worried about social acceptance
too cowardly to admit it
taught that color coding is inferior
but favoritism to a specific color is acceptable
I see police brutality to a specific race
whereas other countries see
Americans killing other Americans
Republicans and Democrats both preach unity
Yet stand divided in one house
but I’m in constant denial
because I was raised as a hypocrite
I want change
but only half of me is willing to fish for that change
it wasn't always the way
minorities didn’t have a voice
so they fought for one
generations later they hoard that voice
locked in a shed
collecting dust
My people have the tools
therefore
don't be fooled
because it’s only a matter of time
before they put them to use
and mold a beautiful sculpture
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 12:35 PM UTC
i remember
in an autumn thunderstorm,
you clung desperately to me underneath our umbrella
you told me you were scared of storms, but that you loved them, and i find now that that was the best way to describe my love for you.
a storm that brewed.
but a storm that i grew attached to.
i fell in love with you in thunderous explosions of orange and blue
the fall was our favorite season but i had no idea just what the **** i was falling into
i thought that when i looked into your eyes i’d realized what i really truly wanted in my life
and that was to be healed by those god **** eyes
thunder shook you but lightning bounced straight from your throat and into my chest
you stopped my heart
you left me with a nasty scar that clung to me like doctor’s stitchings.
so i tore at them,
ripping charred flesh from my muscles almost as swiftly as my pen strokes against paper
it became muscle memory
and those memories of us beneath that clouding sky weigh me down
shackling and chaining me to your promises
grounded on the cracking asphalt of your street titled clover but that street was anything but lucky for us
because it had more potholes than your ******* promises
i have waited a month and a half to write this poem
and the only thing that has kept me awake until three in the morning
was the fact that you had the nerve to cling to the sweater in the bottom drawer of my nightstand
stained with your promises, your memory, your fears and your bravery
every glance, touch, kiss, smile, punch, tear, tear of fabric,
and every booming sob that left my body for the first time in five years
i can’t even cry when i read my writing about you
that was another aspect of me you clinged to
and something i couldn’t cling to
do you know how much damage you’ve dealt me?
mirrors i gaze into feel cracked
shards of glass better describing who i am now than who i once was
broken
and you broke me human
but still used me
as your umbrella
like i was worth something
worth more than all the things you’d made me
in an autumn thunderstorm
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
Repeating with
The frequency
Of apologies,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
While my head
Spins, and my
Innards lurch
Like carnival
Ride children,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
The chaos,
The orderly
Passage of red
Faced spectators
Drifting through space,
Their classic attempts
To embrace and
Disengage,
Grinning at what
Can't be erased,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
Like the sound of
Hopes cast into
The depths of hell,
Glinting tokens
You can't see
Seconds after you
Drop them in,
I'm the air,
I'm the disillusionment
That lets you know
When to be scared,
The anvil in
Your gut telling you
To stop,
I am the sweat
That drips
Like morphine
Into post-mortem
Pathways through
A needle
That needs sharpening,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
This is just a test,
As they say,
It'll all be ok
Once some obese
***** wails,
The levees are stressed
And the horsemen
Idle and wait for the fail,
For the flood
Of repentance,
Of common
Indecency,
For the blood
From Ahab's whale
To initiate
The shackling
Of the sorrowfully
Undeclared,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening."
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
Should there ever be a backward twirling of the clock gears, a paisley maze of metal and magic to occur,
every tear will trace back to its watery scars.
Even the ropes shackling hearts will fray,
shackles broken.
Bits and crumbs of dim memories become whole again.
Just as sweet.
And perhaps, the bad will seep back in.
The dead will open their eyes again.
Roughly stiched in wounds so long ago, where even the owner has forgotten to hem back up the stiches to the surface.
The white cotton thread would have never met the needle's eye.
A baby's nursery room may gather more dust than expected.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 7:29 AM UTC
I am me.
Trying to stay free of any and all forms of tyranny.
Expectations and assumptions beat me down.
I am being crammed into a glass box 5 sizes too small for my body,
Being crushed on all sides as the walls close in around me,
Banging fists of fury as I seek a fault in its corners.
I cannot find a single one.
I cannot recall the time or place when it all began,
The words came slowly at first, trickling in.
Soon they were cascading into my mind.
I knew if I didn't break free I'd drown.
I can hear the voice,
But my screams are shut out by society-plugged ears.
Words shackling me to these transparent walls,
Throat burning as screams yield to croaks,
Lungs bursting from the foreign atmosphere filling them,
Mind shattering in the way i wish glass did,
Thoughts breaking as words come crashing in.
No escape,
No release,
I am society.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
Continuation of duality
Co-existing in harmony
Shackling each other in chains of balance
Unaffected presence, opposition mingling
Influential on both present fluxes
In this circle of unity
Calm, tranquil, passive, the shadows of her nights
Toiling, scorching, the days of his light
As they circle around their paths
To etch their presence in reality
One guides the other
In this encircling passage
To form equality, equity and a state of balance
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
"I should"
a solemn
voice in the head
is all grumble,
dutiful with condemnation,
a heavy
oppression.
desirous flight
is persuaded
to stay
afoot
by what
it
should:
a culturally defined, mental-
artifact, of what one supposedly
must,
oft devoid
of one can-
will, but won't,
out of fear.
doubt, like chains on dreams,
easily persuades
the mind into mundane
plains of
guilt ridden sorrows,
cut out by knives of shame,
choking the present tense
of what shall,
strapped in and unfulfilled,
hollow
and holding,
like an anchor
in a reservoir
of regretful
undertakings,
sticky with ought,
fierce like flagellation
lashing,
imprisoning visions:
victimized
by expectations,
negations of choice:
stomping on the souls good will,
starving the free heart,
shackling the mind.
operations from a place
complacent with
banality and viciousness
in some quiet take over
some woe
of status-quo
waging with
shaky scaffolding
and the numbing
dumb
timber of nothing
a
dull aching
noise
.
enough.
turn off: the over beaten
dead skull
thumping
with outside pressure
be silent
to hear
there is an inner music
more in tune with life
than anything you've been told
by the force
of should
or should not.
Mar 22, 2014
Mar 22, 2014 at 2:42 AM UTC
I hold this in the creases of my palms;
The book of a creature who
eats the glittering horns of a devil.
I’ve witnessed the trees
weep where she will rest.
I’ve watched the stars
cascade from the sky
and rupture into her eyes
the morning she was born;
The same hour morning gave birth
to a sea of her whispering fragrance.
The moon is where she folds
and envelopes the secrets of a prayer .
And we all will wait,
We all will wait
Where she takes her ***** and breath.
Cities ablaze and words ignite.
From underneath wounded heels
the world weaves a shrill tremble.
Fate twists and collides like
an eclipse shackling death.
And her flesh, her flesh is where the
violent pomegranates erupt nectarous words
Of forbidden languages,
Silent soliloquies of poetry
echo from between the arches of the
gothic cathedrals carved into her deathly collarbones.
Her breath melts the blood of man
For she is what holds the sun
And teems forth the spring of truth
From beneath the land of cinderous lies,
Where the starving incubi fornicate
And sit heavy upon the hissing
nightmares of beautiful women.
Men helplessly comply to the
catharsis in her brief passing.
The mouths of women bleed
and spines erode to her paralyzing current.
There are those who wish to tear her poetic guts
and wear them as victory crowns and armored robes
Those who dream of bathing in their triumph of her death
And those who desire to drain the mysteries of her sky
A sky of roses made of stars
A sky of birthing constellations
A sky of dawn goddesses
I wish for this to rotate vagrant and mangle
The ill hearts who wish to rip
heavens body in one syllable.
-Arizona
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
I was raised with one hand
firmly gripping my neck.
Not enough to choke,
but just enough to scare.
One wrong move and
He could snap my neck.
One split second of insubordination-
And death.
He occasionally squeezed too hard-
blamed it on his stress.
Gasping for air is the only
Memory I have of him.
No abuse to report,
No marks or scars except the ones on my heart.
I cried alone at night so
No one could hear.
I smiled through the pain
and hid every tear.
Threats were daily and
Love disappeared.
The child I was,
No longer appeared.
Each year I grew older,
His grip would tighten.
Shackling me to his commands and
Endless profanities.
I was told to toughen up,
But my heart was wilder than he could tame.
Shorter breaths and more tears-
Years and years of silence.
Waiting for the perfect time
To stand up and say,
"Good riddance"
Every day it gets closer now,
To the day I'll break his hands.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 8:54 PM UTC
It's as if I closed my eyes and time passed me by
I wish that I could rewind
I miss the feeling of being careless and free
But now I have responsibility shackling me
I miss the days that I could play without stress
But now my life is just a mess
I miss the world inside my imagination
But now it's become my damnation
Every thought is centered around what I need to get done
There is no vocabulary in my life to define "Fun"
And I am not alone, but I feel deserted
I keep calling out, but fear no one heard it
I feel like I am lost inside my mind
And I am searching but I can not find
The way out of this Hell I've been sentenced to
Life was easier before I grew
up.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
I held each parcel -
An anxiety in itself
Next to the flame of
Organization calling for
Life to be spared, its spirit
Never to wane
Hot was the heat of
The group,
Their teeth
Glistening like the wild
Hounds of times trampling
The suburban wasteland of
Reaffirming adoration
I told myself lies in the tune
Of pop music, beer, liquor
And cigarettes made of the blood
Of plants and worker's I knew
Not the faces or name or where
They chose to come from
Please let me know
How the snow falls in
America this day, the way
It used to shine like diamonds,
How I used to believe in its
Mystery and its magic
Stories of lore were more
Than just a dream for me
A king of the tide, sand
Entrancing dogs whose paws
Dug at the dirt like friends
Behind their cash registers, on the run
Who make stilts out of willow sap
Swimming in the fortresses of nature
Following the ways of the world as
They heard that it once was there
Believing the present lays in the past
Shackling themselves to rocks
For ravens to pluck out beating heart
Beneath a beating sun that
Swore never to quit
A promise to the sky and
The moon whose nose leaks
Day in and day out
Blessing us with the fortune
Of a quick and easy annihilation
I am not beat, but
I have not won
The battle for my freedom
Can only be won by one
Aug 10, 2012
Aug 10, 2012 at 3:51 PM UTC
Four panes of glass separate
myself.
I wear them like
a box,
switching between
the masks.
But your words
have weight.
They press
and tap,
each tap
clatters the panes
in a shackling manner.
When the eyes ink
over from years
of smudging,
rubbing
only makes it worse.
I flinch
as a snap
attacks.
Grim leaks
and seeps
onto the floor
as I climb.
The walls get slick
as my feet stick
and the muck
keeps me
inside.
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 9:54 AM UTC
Why am I chained down by my suffering and misery?
Please, can someone set me free?
Can you send me to my eternal resting place?
To be free from my suffering.
It’s alright, no one will miss me.
I’m all alone.
Won’t you send me to the depth of the underworld?
It’s dead on the inside, I’m just a walking corpse.
I want to escape this world to the eternal darkness.
Give me a reason to live.
Give me a reason to be happy.
What is the point in smiling if it is a lie?
Why do I need to pretend that everything is going to be okay?
That only causes more pain.
I’m lying not only to myself but to everyone around me by creating a fake facade so I can feel whole again.
The need to fill that empty void living in my heart is growing more and more as time goes on.
I can feel the chains burning as I’m held by my misery.
The longing to be free, to be able to feel the warmth of the sun hit my face.
I’m stuck…
Stuck between trying to live my life, and trying to run from it.
Why should I stay positive when it feels like my life is falling apart?
These are my chain of misery.
Forever shackling me to this pain.
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 12:06 PM UTC
Crescendo rising to torture the orchestral lull
Broke backed break beats, hound the exhumed hull
Waltzing off with the sounds of silver
Revoked in half measures by a cold sweat shiver
……………………………………………………………………………………
The aft bowed to its keel,
Scorpion shaped contorted steel.
It’s crescent figure draped on the horizon
Lulled to sleep by the house paid siren.
……………………………………………………………………………………
Sloppy soaked balsa kicks back reverence through the feed
Cracks in crackling, evident of disintegration in the reed.
……………………………………………………………………………………
Poppy poked ventricles provoke elegance through need
Rats in shackling, petulant for the absolution required to concede
……………………………………………………………………………………
Unbuckling at middays light
Caustically aware of approaching night
Collective need provokes a search for a scout
No one wants to leave their stash in the middle of a drought
……………………………………………………………………………………
Crashed and burned on grassless shoals
A boat full of users without goals
Left to withdrawal on barren land,
Hollow shores of endless sand
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 12:48 AM UTC
The king is dead.
We fed him knives and liquor.
Anything to seal his fate.
That much quicker.
The king is rotted in the media.
The fly cored out his body with maggot young.
Bled the liquor out with a funnel and dug in the carcass;
For blood rusted cutlery.
Calm and focused.
I lose my love for his liege.
As he ***** all the women, made our children believe,
He's the answer to questions,
In the ether still linger.
I burn up the vapor, with his name ghostly whispered.
The empires dead, we are red in the face of the answer,
The king wasn't there, now his bodies a phantom.
And I’m not shoulder deep in his blood from shoveling
But shackling myself in a corpse wrapped for posthumous reverie.
The sovereign lives!
He is you, not me.
A shackled neck for every broken king.
Self ownership ends, with the plows yolked to every sheepish smile, pan the lens.
The brain flows top down in the system of men.
This grey matter cage is forced through the gin.
Our corporeal visage is saliva in the face of the Prometheans before us.
We are the ******** if we don't roll fates stone,
And our eyes aren't picked out.
We should burn in that fire that so melted the wings of Icarus.
I'd rather my entrails eternally settle everyday in the belly of a crow, than be a stone with rested moss shaping the kings carved throne.
Encrusted with Slave Carcasses.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
So shut off the lights and close your eyes
The demons come crawling in
Their creeping deep inside
These shallow thoughts now becoming so vivid during the eerie nights
It’s definitely not alright
Can’t seem to escape them or break the chains they display in your mind
Constantly battling the urge to feel the pain their causing you inside
It’s taking such a toll on one’s daily life
Missing the bright crystal blue skies in the days we often felt alive
Moods constantly changing like the seasons and in our heads their telling us “trust it’ll be fine”
Can’t seem to shake them in the darkest of times
Can’t seem to break them out of the chains that they live shackling inside
Getting tired and restless it’s becoming so hectic
Don’t sleep well most nights
Should we just slip and let them rip us alive?
-Brian Hoffman (9-13-20)
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 9:49 PM UTC
Bckkkkkk
Lightening splits the sky
Cracking the horizon like
Shards of shattering glass
Inverting and reflecting
The alternate dimensions
Severing the ties of reality
Bckkkk
White strings of energy
Sparkling and crackling
Time no longer shackling
Space no longer tethering
Nothing belonging to me
Bckkkk
I can almost feel the thundering
As the vibrating sensations
Touches my inner ear canal
It is frightening how easily
The lightening could consume me
Bckkkk
But the wonder of its thunder
The blunder of its destruction
Cutting sound and ground spitting dirt
Causing the earth to hurt
As it explodes one way or the other
And all I can really say is
Bckkk Bckkk Bckkk wooooshhhhhh
This would be cooler if it was really raining
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC
We are just friends now. The fire in your eyes is now smoldering embers- fading to ashes as you move on and on and on and there are more girls and more girls and you're thriving off the thrill of the chase that you crave so badly and I'm still singing sad love songs when I'm alone and driving for miles and miles and miles on an empty highway... Aching for a nonexistent yesterday and shackling myself to my favorite memories to keep me from floating away.
I'm hanging on by a heartbeat. The only thing that keeps me warm at night anymore is the thought of your lips on my neck and the softness, the gentleness of those little forehead kisses.
"It's the fire in your eyes."
**** I keep hearing this. I can't escape you and your indifference cuts me to the core. I can't stand a plain goodbye. I've never been good with ordinary- and what is so puzzling is that I know you are so far from it that you could never be okay with this...typicalness.
It was, we were
Always more that that.
Please tell me you need me like I need you. There is no certainty involved in existence, I know, but I can hardly get used to these bones and these lungs and this heartbeat that thumps for you ever so steadily in my chest. You ruin me in the way I suppose I always hoped to be ruined.
It's only love
It's only loss
It only hurts for a second and then
It's over and
You're gone and I'm free
To feel all the feelings
I could have never felt
With you by my side.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 9:10 AM UTC
I'm falling down gently,
Gently into the void.
I know now slumber beckons,
But I work to keep my stride.
The lessons learned in life,
The ideas with which I've toyed,
Seem so minuscule in retrospect,
Before, before this void.
I used to care so much,
Anxiety was paramount,
What is all this going on?
The pain only surmounts.
I'm searching—
Hope begins to crumble.
My heart breaking—
I stagger and fumble on.
And, there,
Up upon this mount,
It’s brightness shines!
The light I see!
How foolish
—Blind!—
It was
—Of course!—
All along in me,
This slyly hidden, plain-view, visible key
Turning to unlock the secret of my ’I’ mystery.
It had always been but a flicker,
This firefly of my mind.
I stumble on now towards it,
Weariness defined.
Reaching out, I grasp it.
A soft smile brightens my brow;
I shrug off the shackling pain,
Rise from my burdened bow,
Standing up above the corner
Of one of this road’s many rolling bumps,
Where someone in the mirror once told me
I’d never even master the jump.
So I fly high now,
My destiny, the what I was searching for,
Clear in core, please—my people—
Prepare for all that I have in store.
Now I know,
Yes, I know for sure,
I will toil, toil nevermore.
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 8:50 PM UTC