Finish

To drop one bellow, to saunter in a blow, one that the head will know, and the body can grow- to drop one into the casam of death, that I am unwelcome in, even if I am depressed, to drop one into the great mechanism of time, to meet a friend and go dine- to steal the lakes effect snow, to be a beast of the know- yet still fall back and wonder, is everything perfect or am I a blunder? Does fame have a name, or just a walkway? Do people all game? Or am I a sign in a maze? I wished for the best daze, but got a claim and a stake for this blame- I came to know the wishful thinking's annoyance, yet knew an adults prophylactic avoidance, I even wandered far in, where no man can sin...