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A poem to end the year that has been.

Sometimes I think

I will surely throw myself

off these walls

that blind my soul.

Sometimes I search

for that lone song

that adorns my house

and makes it home.

Sometimes I walk

by the salt sea spray

and wonder at footprints

long gone away.

 

But most times, I’m only me

trying to prove my worth

upon this earth

to merit my stay

on these unequal lands

marked by unstable hands.

 

If I had to die tonight

I would go real quiet

you would never hear me

sigh or mutter

or complain

that I had to do this or that

or have just one more job to do.

I’m through.

So show me your claws

two thousand seven-teen

You beat the drums,

I’ll take the tambourine.

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