2 and a half *'s
I was not born
to direct thought,
as if true living
was one great big
I was born dead and I am
still trying to live or give,
whatever it is...
as close proxim.
Poems are just snippets
of life already lived,
and the only reward,
is the high falutin
To catch the mouse,
before it leaves the house,
all dressed up like a bigger rat,
trapped no less,
for the better or worse...
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Comments about this poem (2 and a half *'s by GRANT FRASER )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
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