They’ll say to everyone else

That I’m better off this way

Out here on my own again

A bird in flight across skyways

Bound to a non-existent place

Strange people will say anything

To be paper heroes of their dreams

Not caring how it affects lives

When manipulation is their game

Not understanding- me- at all

Betterment ought to feel better

I must tell you, this surely doesn’t

If only people cared enough to listen

Some things are better left…undisturbed


Poet of the Light (c) 2022


5 thoughts on “Flushed

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