A Mornings Word 10/05/07 Poem by wordsy wright

In a race that has no finish
Where the dead except no blame
The living are fraught and foundering
All in all it’s all the same

Like a game in extra endings
With no tally as yet confirmed
Destructions are found in compliance
So no longer are we concerned

About an excuse that’s worn and weary
Where over use has taken its toll
With reasons that are clouded and bleary
Forever on, it is we roll

Blinded once more by a fettered faith
A truth in lies now told
Tell me just where do we get off
On being oh so bold

Tell me just where do we get off
On being oh so bold