The Battle Of Effortville Poem by Greg Perlman

So you hold me with your scorn
In a cage
Until the morn
Comes bursting through the sky
And crackles a fiery dawn

Have years of locked up rage
Wispping in the wind
With a dancing purple sage

The sweet nectar of love
Has forsaken us
But luck just keeps turning my way

Have a heart made of black
And grey steel
Where the spirals lead us
To reveal
The underlying mistakes
That lead me into hate
But I stepped off, the battlefield