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I wait around
in my tree house
quite comfortably oblivious
starring into the starless night
wish to crash
into that one
shooting star.....
Cascading about
like a motherless child
roaming this wretched world
from one sea
to another
collecting his dues
as he thinks that he is intiltled to
not a care, not a care
The fater
a drunkard in the garage
waiting
for that long, gone child
to come back home
But clearly overshadowed
to the fact that he won't
crawl, on his knees, palms
on that carpet once make love
planted in a life without asking
Fairness not the truth be told
my connection to a rambling man
left in my tree house
before the sun rose
On Good Friday, so long, so long
"So goes," my daddy said
You may think your life
a sad story
but a library is no place
to find your way
all predetermined
from other's minds
you cheated
no place to find your wway
You must create it yourself
out of the thinnest of air
the bearest of deserts
the emptyness of a hole
with just a heart in the middle.....