Saturday, February 27, 2016


Fuel the self-righteous lamb, and put him on a skillet.
I have conquered all sadness in my way.
Yet it tingles on the edge of my spine.  The mountains of
I lack self-reliance.  I pity the bold.  But take on regret.
My heart is on my sleeve.  Pardon my tomorrow.
I wear my life on my sleeve.
This is what I see:  an ocean outside my bedroom window
And a boat coming in to harbor.

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