Its been a week,

and its my twenty third tweek.

Six months this year,

Feeling quite dear.


I’ve got to run,

and its found.

Not healing myself,

when others around.


Its progress of course,

but in light of making things worse.

Careful to see,

How I’ve affected thee.


The study progresses,

future and past.

Checking the records,

forever going fast.


It’s a forgone conclusion,

It’s written in bygone.

It’s hitting you hard,

as I pray in the sun.


The tears run freely,

trembling hands prevail.

As all of our elders,

continue to fail.


They’ve helped themselves,

taking for granted.

All of the kindness,

they’ve incinerated and lancered.


Caught in the pain,

caught in the lies.

Caught in the fleese,

surrounded by fly’s.


They’ve sought out riches,

sought out fame.

Sought out pleasures,

just to refrain.


So again we go,

speading the love.

with winged tipped heals,

and floating like doves.


Stepping wide,

stepping long.

Stepping around,

still singing my song.



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