Untitled

I know there's no room
	for me
		to be
	anything but mistaken
		for a tree
	drifting in blue breeze.

	Then there's fees
		--you fees,
			my foes
		make cold my toes
		and shown me
			a new high,
		I'd never know
			in getting lo.
		Woe me, woe be-gone
			traveler of rancid
				nights and dirty
					tracks.
			Hit me clean
				but never listen
					to me speak.
			You'd be wrong then
				'cause I am a liar
			and never know it
				cause I lied
					again----
				to my mother
					my poor
					   poor
					   mother.
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Comments
2 Responses to “Untitled”
  1. Tom G says:

    great…from tip to tail.

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