I rise, to sugar in coffee,/ I rise to clues I’ve missed,/ beyond that I discover why I feel weightless/I’m suspended in the salt seas. I’m desperate, for compensation/ for eras angry over time spent. squalid/I cut my teeth /on the yokes I’m sent./Caught up with what’s valid,/ soothsayers and colonels take notice/ when I hang from the window. /It allows them to preach/their off brand gospels / while they watch me fall.
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Poetry in Motion 