It Takes a Village Idiot

IT TAKES A VILLAGE IDIOT The paper trail that led from there to here could not be found although there was the mark of fingerprints that would not disappear in light of all we know, we're in the dark; from Little Rock's whitewater world of fame once cool and fresh and bottled for it's sell the papers that were writ could clear their name, but if they're real, not anyone can tell; who knows what evil lurks in hearts of men or in my ladies chambers, hid away from prying eyes of prophets free of sin and so they'll never see the light of day? And still the truth's unknown, for who would care lest muddy waters flood us everywhere? ©Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet