Friday, February 22, 2013


Distracted by some muted sounds
that trickle neath the door
my mind begins to focus once again
I guess I’ll go and make my rounds
like a million times before
alert to any plots that prod my pen

I weave my way between each loom
to ferret out the flaws
that mar the meshing of the warp and woof
the defects that could cause our doom
and silence all the jaws
we’ve fed to fund the fun of the aloof

there’s nothing they could ever say
to justify the lines
that we are often forced to shuttle through
or strangle in to earn the pay
that never quite defines
our character as much as what we do.

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