Saturday, August 24, 2013

Wishful Thinking, Misanthrope

Sometimes I think 

The world would have been 
A much, much better place 

Without me, so much better 
That I wish I could 

Flash back to that hard dirt floor 
Just before the midwife 

Helped mom push me through 
The darkness, stop everything and settle 

That long-overdue score I have 
With who-knows-what 

That’s killing me—surely 
I could live with that

And wish no more. 


  1. "With who-knows-what/
    That’s killing me..."

    Ah, there's the mystery that's slowly killing us all. I say keep writing until it's really over

  2. Still trying to unravel it but I haven't got a clew.


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