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The Way Of Things; One Day by Richard LeDue

The Way of Things

Too many of us bury ourselves under smiles,

believing in the flat happiness

of dollar bills,

exchanging recipes on Saturdays,

only to think about god on Sundays,

or getting red faced from arguing

about politics,

without ever realizing it's all a mirage,

and as the sand slips through our fingers

we accept that as the way of things,

instead of seeing the desert bones,

more alive with their past failures

than the dancing flames

of more birthday cake candles,

darkening the world with lies

about how the best is yet to come.

One day,

there'll be no more beers

at midnight, no more

waking up at 3 AM

hearing your kid cough,

no more staring out a window

at fresh snow, promising

yourself to paint it

into a picture later,

only to never do it, no more

cracked lips, too sore to kiss,

no more love poems

written haphazardly,

just to lazily become death poems

years later, and the knowledge

of what was lost won't be enough

to give life to a ghost.

1 comentário

Reads like I feel.

Thanks, I think.

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