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Updated: Jul 19, 2022

Where the rubbers meet the roads belie

the fact that cherish love has run dry

and simple thank you has gone awry,

and respect has become a dye in the eye.

So, I'd reframe that closing memory door,

the same one that leads to my old pleasure shores.

I'd rename my ethereal treasures and gains

that came with the folds of my pleasures and pains.

I'd reclaim my life away from inane measures

when I pull on my flowing mane at leisure.

Then I can walk back the disappearing sand

into the glass to unwind the clock of time’s hour-hand.

I'd speak not of erosion of identity

I'd only entertain my sane moments from insanity

I'd push forth the re-birth of humanity

and seek that which leads to civility.

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