Horse Shoe

If not drunk, when might I write

and accomplish what I've sought;

something worth editing while

sober under cruel daylight.

I see the same faces and

am reminded and decline

the pathway provided by

things that had never occurred.

I hate these words and wonder

at their purpose and their worth.

I've got nothing left to prove

and no audience to woo.

I think I'll be absent, too.

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