This One


I don’t know what this is,
But I know that I want it.
Things started quite amiss,
But the pieces seemed to fit.

This is real;
This had transpired
What is there to feel,
When much is desired.

I don’t know where my road is going,
And I’d quite frankly hate to know.
The wind is surely blowing,
Telling me it’s time to go.
The thing is that I won’t.
Even if my hands are painted “don’t”
Because I’ll do what I’d like,
Stand before the mic,
And tell you all,
That here, I’m standing tall.


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