Today; in reprieve.
It is my soul that is dancing,
The spirit free awoken,
The snippet of urban punk rock
birdsong;
From the tree above,
My moment enhances
My inertia flow, that steamrollers all wrongs.
Of course, it is punk that the bird's chorus in choir
They are shrieking, not singing,
Those Lords above us,
Chanting and mocking us,
Their acrobatics in space,
They show us the grace,
Of the world around us
That to endure for
In the mind,
And hope again.
YOU ARE READING
My Papi's Mid-life Crisis
RandomI'm forty two and in danger of falling through the cracks of mediocrity; also known as a midlife crisis. I don't drive, so I can't buy a fancy car to fix it. I love my wife, so I can't have an affair with another woman. This book is part of my attem...
