He moves swiftly with no socks.

Steps on all of the rocks.

 He acts as if he feels no pain.

As he gets soaked by the rain.


This TV can’t keep me entertained.

I don’t want to be shamed.

All the things from my past haunt me.

Like the memory of a car hitting a tree.


I can’t swim so I’m scared I’ll drown.

A pool of memories that weight me down like 100 pounds.

Some people are scared of clowns.

I’m scared of the future.


I’m in a dark swamp looking for light.

Not a bright thing is in my sight.

I’m probably the only person here.

I can feel a cold being near.


As I tell you my story I hope you hear my pain.

It’s something that I hide because I am vain.

Naïve to the thought of humbleness.

So I know I’ll tumble a bit.


The resiliency in me will bring me right back up.

Until I take another sip of that cup.

And no that’s not juice in

It. More like a little hen.



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