The Drunken Poet

Wed, 06/07/2017 - 12:49 -- Neftee

My bones are swollen.
They swell against their joints.
I know they are not.
I know they can not.
But that's how they feel.
The needless in my feet,
The bars in my mind.
The shift feels like a
Sweaty crotch with a rash
The world is wrath.
The people are slaves,
Is it enough?
Save me save me!
Be my guide.
Don't let me die by my design.
I want to be free.
Make me free.
I keep hearing about wars,
And Jesus says the end is near.
I don't know.
I'm no Jesus.
But I want us to be whole.
I want my voice to be heard,
And the people to be free.
I cry out from Egypt,
And God cries for me.
I hear him shouting for the captives
To be set free.
But the captives don't want to be.
They think they are.
So let's let them go.
The truth is,
I want to make a difference
But I am so alone.
A cog in the clock,
Spinning all alone.
There is nothing out there.
Nowhere I can go.
So I'll just sit here.
I'll sit here and drink.
Poor some wine.


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