i found myself
again yesterday,
hoping i’d changed,
but life is innocent
’til the crimes are found.
my burnt throat
drank a draft to
the wasted time
let loose by anger, that
mighty foe better left alone.
how little feet
grasp power lines,
sit, still-perch,
remain unaware
of the grounded
doozers raising earth
to fill holes hid in hearts
by yet-discovered discoveries
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