You Don'T Choose, Choice F's You
Beads of clear liquor trickle
Like fickle tears a lick rids.
A drop slid down amidst
Thick fears.
Choice of liquor? Beer.
Steer inward towards clear
Ambitious
Glee.
Then, when opportunity peers from behind a mouth,
Opportunity flees.
Dripping, rivers of fluid dy-manics steer.
Simply be.
It does not choose the destination it nears.
It chooses to be free.
Copyright © Amy Wallace | Year Posted 2019
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