How absurd it is that we take ourselves so seriously sometimes,
But that’s what keeps us on our toes,
That’s what keeps the monsters from creeping through the sheets
And holds the bats at bay
And smothers the biting thoughts
That try to eat us whole
And pull us under
Beneath the soil
And spread roots
Like weeds
Stripping the earth of fruitful space
Leaving a trail of heads
Faster than anything living,
Hard to keep up if
you let the ugly heads tear through marked territory,
Without kicking a shovel in the ground
And ripping apart
The beady eyes
And stripping the foundations
From the ground,
Sometimes that shovel
Is the dagger of passion,
That separates I from them,
With a spearhead
Too sharp for combat,
This shovel is made
For leaving a trail of flowers and gold
Love it
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On why I write 🙂 thanks Nanaliz xxxx
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