No More
As the clouds pour its soul onto us all
You will see, a new age, a new dawn
A chessboard of life, and us, the pawn
But not the shops, related however
Used, worn down, hand me down
No more
I want to be kept
To be heard
Yet I
Want to be free
Want to be lonesome
Leave me be
By myself, for this is better
How my soul is stormy weather
Clouded mind and fogged heart
Exterior so bright
Cleared for flight
Why must I fool you all?
Why must I fool myself?
No more
Copyright © Ken Wallace | Year Posted 2012
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