Day Of Rest
I have rested on my tootsiesFor a six month trying to find
Sweet reasons to cure me.
What I hear cannot pure me
Unless your roots procure some
Novel differences slightly rapidly.
I'm always for second chances...
But they arrive just once. Watched
With eagle eyes as you lie
Before me with all the unnacountables
Sewn
Into well lined pockets it seems
You are just common thieves
Dressed as some untouchables.
I don't suppose you ever
Dream of any kind of future.
Yet I do.
Poetry by jenks
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Written on 2011-06-22 at 23:47
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