POEM 94: UNFINISHED WORK 

Most times he feels like man
With hands in his pockets
Trying to lift himself up by the handle.
He tries
He tries
Hard
H A R D E R

Most times he feels like a dog
With bone around his neck
Trying to have a bite
Because hunger pangs.
He tries
He tries
Hard
H A R D E R.

Most times he's a lad so fond of the stars
That night and it's darkness
Scare him no more.

Most times...

Last night he stared at the stars
Reached out and took a light
Smeared it on his face
And slept to dream again.





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