Poppa, Let Me Rest
It's fundamental.
It's a human thing for sure.
I've turned you into
a stone and thrown you
into the pond for the rings
hoping they will fit
on my fingers, gold
on my soul.
Oh you promised
me gold but the rings
melt away. So I
try again - maybe this time.
It's a human thing.
You said if you meet
me on the road I must kill
you right then before
I wrap you all tight
like I've tied your laces round
my delicate neck.
January 16, 2014 4:22 AM
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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.