Is It Poetry (1958 - / Bus-Boys And Poets, Washington D.C.)
Therapy, Balance, Truth and Trust
My body I have left in all the wrong places.
Places no one will look.
Look and what they will find?
Patients and machines, untill I live, I can.
I will leave it to all the others,
why it came to pass this way.
No one understands,
the politics of why I'm here today.
Some other things are worse than this,
of that, I'm sure.
Pretty nurses that I now, I can not ignore.
A life of pain,
no one told me then, I would survive.
Before it ever happened, why the sky lit up so bright.
It was hard enough to cross the finish line.
The wall I hit a thousand times before.
But never once like this.
Will they find them all, and kill them.
Kill them not and learn from history.
I won't go out again like this, you swore an oath.
I have no defense for what was done to U.S.
To U.S. like this.
The telly, I won't watch, the sick reruns.
The media it seems are much, much worse.
Untill I run another lenghthy marithon.
And leave God out of this, from where you come.
For all of you,
that won't refuse, to go beyond the line again.
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