Going Going Gone
I own a shop within my mind
That sells spare parts when I'm so inclined
My rational like a junkyard heap
Of twisted thoughts I cannot weep
A quick fix for a festered soul
I've a plastic widget made of gold
And beneath that heap there is a well
So dark So deep I cannot tell
For in this well I threw my heart
So battered and bruised It will not start
I lays in there all shriveled and cold
This well Is dry and very old
I decided to sell this shop of mine
With saline drops this well I shall prime
And float my heart and cleanse my mind.
Copyright © Daniel P Loiselle | Year Posted 2015
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