never wanting to be defeated so I rise with war cries and puzzling words and I won't be stopped or grounded I am cloaked with sun-drenched wings of birds mostly leaving them dumfounded
They say I never stick around with anything for long they think it's 'cause I've never found that mythical perfect song they say, "Look at your love and sharing time" they say, "Look at your fireworks in bed" but why do I sense some sort of crime when so much is left unsaid?
This quandary is an old one I stand between two things one beckons with so much still undone and one seems to clip my wings well there are questions at every corner there's this wandering I was born with I dream of climates that are warmer on a horizon of Truth and Myth
And they say I never stick around with anything for long they think it's 'cause I've never found that mythical perfect song they yell, "Look at your love and your sharing time" they yell, "Look at your fireworks in bed!" but why do I sense some sort of crime when so much is left unsaid? sometimes so much is left unsaid so much is left unsaid
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So Much is Left Unsaid
Once again I am drawn away from most of what surrounds me thinking no one no one anywhere can stray upon this path that calls me then I laugh at all this childishness wondering why I act this way caught in this thing I call "creativeness" and questioning Truth while trying to be brave
In lofty words that could be simple I have oh so many times retreated shouting "Onward! Onward! Don't be crippled!"
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© Gerald Nicholas Simpson. All rights reserved. |
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