Monday, September 17, 2018

poem of the day September 17


I can not control
what happens next
nor can you or even the very best of us left 
for hope is just part of human delusion
We can wish on the same luck
but if there is no magic truck
We will be just like dead fish out of stale water
gasping for the same air we all can not breath
The grand land is full of many steep stairs
we climb peaks to perfect confusion without the soul of mother truth 

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