A tendency to exaggerate.
Variable and inconsistent,
A migratory bird, unaware
Which hemisphere is up
Or what time of year it is.
A mountain and a molehill,
Keynotes of your dependency.
Furtive and insecure
And longing for approval;
All wayward illegitimacy.
Time to find the truth within
And not try so hard
To be party to an
Estranged and inconsolable
Murder of crows.
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For more of my poetry, check out Poetry for the Sad, Lonely and Hopelessly Endangered and The All or the Nothing, available in print or e-book formats.
Odd, but I likes it.
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Thanks, Chelsea. One person’s odd is another person’s normal 😉
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😀 I likes that, too.
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One thing is certain here
you want to find the truth
everybody wants to find it
truth makes our soul free
free from that small booth
we all know as ignorance
getting to see through lies
makes our souls soothe.
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😊👍
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Great poem, Steve. Liked the words so well composed.
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Thanks so much. I don’t write as much poetry nowadays but it’s nice to know it’s still appreciated! 😊
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Welcome 😊😊😊 Steve
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