The Home On the Hill
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They roamed around the curds and whey.
They cut off pads that were lifted on the hill.
They barely are vain beggars, no more to say.
Used to farm across broken walls and gray.
They're thrust because the winds were shrill.
They roamed around the curds and whey.
Not even once is there a unique urging today.
No one judges if you are birling or falling still.
They barely are vain beggars, no more to say.
Why do we go unevenly, to hurl lives away?
In the area surrounding the recessed sill?
They roamed around the curds and whey.
Swap, my punk, and our awful fancy-play.
I will stay sober, so we do not lose this skill.
They barely are vain beggars, no more to say.
Invasion ardor seeks to ruin and decay.
Care to their needs at the House on the hill.
They roamed around the curds and whey.
They barely are vain beggars, no more to say.
Written: November 05, 2022
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2022
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