The Unfairness Of Angels 
  matthew Bartram

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 Scarecrow

I am a scarecrow with no birds to scare
Without a voice to shout and swear
Hands like straw and no feet to run
A pole strapped to my back and shoved through my bum
Left in a field to think and ponder
As the nights draw in and the days get shorter
The sky is seldom seen with the clouds now here
And as the rain hits my face it resembles a tear
I am the scarecrow with many a story to tell
Stuck in this field, like a boy down a well





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