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Rated: E · Poetry · Entertainment · #2147504
In a blink of time you might find yourself lost in a rhyme.
Walking down life’s lonely streets,
Who do we find but only the dirt
on our feet.
Going along singing a sad country song of days long gone!
But this we may find half the world doing there own time!
So sad says the wiper will as she sings to her young family,
as though mankind has lost his way this sunny day in late may.
As though you may think how this will go,
Not knowing that soon it will be snowing,
As the roasters are crowing,
While the corn is growing,
And the young will grow old,
As the snow comes and goes.
But the world is asleep,
To the cold streets,
And we all Cary our own prison bars,
As the paint peels from the cold walls of our hearts
And young and old go to war,
But never really come home,
And feel all alone.
Though night turns today,
Men and women forget to pray,
As long as they think they are free,
And there children grow old and all alone,
All on there own,
And the men at sea,
Are blind,
Singing songs,
Of sad rhymes,
To a way not there own,
And just like the men in the air,
Can’t breathe,
And the boots on the ground,
And the blood flies the air.
And at home we’re never all really there.
As the choir sings there religious songs.
Has man lost there way this very day?
One day slips into the next,
Or they say?
As they read there holy books,
And yet pray to a faceless God,
That is as much as the stranger
That walks among them.
Love your neighbor,
But love there husband, wife and daughter or even more,
We coveted our freedom,
And forget who pays our way,
We coveted what is not ours,
Have we lost our way,
Or just our minds?
Or is this just another day in paradise ,
As the poor pick the lice from there loved ones hair,
Who am I?
And how dare I tell such a dirty lie,
Or is this an alibis,
As the children cry.
And the poor live and die at war,
Who cares as long as we don’t have to pay the price or take the sacrifice.
We forget that the one thing God gave us to really coveted and that’s our very life’s!
Till night turns to day and then again,
You may pretend,
As you hear on the wind,
the drums of war!
And time marchs on tile mankind just ant know more!
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Printed from https://p15.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2147504-The-Dawn-of-the-Dancing-Fool