Freedom From a Province
Ten seconds fly while I sit here and cryOn a paper with tears made of ink
Don't think I don't see how the closest thing near me
Is a chest with gold eyes and a crest of white teeth
For high in the tower in my western view
Is a rumor that cannot be true
But I laugh and I worry, whilst in my mad fury
I am no more a ship that can sink
Always a quota and lectures with quotes a
High bull man could laugh at and smoke
The street lamps are magic illusions that trick
The most prestigious clock that could tock and tick-tick
As cliche it may, there's a bluebird who sings
That (at least in my mind) there will come all good things
But the deadline is living, it is well and it thrives
Will I meet it? That is the joke
No humor or wit can come with such a twit
He had all knee high I'm convinced
But freedom can't be what they say it could be
It does not come on carts for the people to see
My mind is quite set, though I shall not forget
That the bet with the devil is paid with regret
Petition will come once this paper is done
For a longer leash from my province
Poetry by weirdzarun
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Written on 2007-02-08 at 16:17
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