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some say
if I think therefore I am not does that mean thinking erases me? would I rather run like color runs in water the liquidness of the movement languid, effortless and endless thinking can be as dangerous as a cage like the limits of 9 x 11 page and the limits of space/time the hour glass has tipped you who are getting older know of what I write and speak help me out of here I'm trapped set me free to roam far and wide with the wind have you ever felt you were too strapped in? that you've lived and thought too long a certain way this contorts and distorts me the highway of life has projects that have stalled along the way I've tinkered with them only long enough to cause a ripple or no change within nor promise or hope I feel I've been adrift self-sacrificing for mere curiosity or mediocrity if I were a cat nearly all nine lives would be gone so what's left? experience or defeat something in between? depends on the perspective now, the limit has been posted at 55 and what's beyond it could be exhausting its a wake up call on a wind up alarm clock its an old song blasting in my head I can't drive this hoopty no more its 55 and to the floor and look at me the age I am screw you all this is where you're eventually coming to we all follow this road map to our own ends it took some real doing to get here you better believe me didn't it? 55 should be needs to be a whole lot cockier this Hen has got some crowing to do. Copyright August 27, 2014 Wednesday 9:37 pm All Rights Reserved By This Author All Rants/Ideas/Poetry/Stories are The Legal Property of This Writer Meloo/Melissa A Howells straight from her Tilt-a-World "Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night." "Rage Against The Machine" of Public Opinion Vote for this poem |
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