mocking
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I signed my soul away with a 21st century John Hancock,
To get rid of stubborn, ages old writer’s block.
And now these trembling hands they do mock,
At my crooked fingers and smudged fingerprints they gawk.
I
“Nothing is set in stone;
besides, I don’t even know what I want.
I don’t care about your hopes and dreams;
my needs matter so much more.”
II
Why does my shadow mock me?
Everything I do, it does the same,
Very ghostly and crafty,
I have to do something to throw it off aim.
Tender gasoline coats the meadow –
You look half dead half the time, dear.
Children dream of willow fires and –
Why don’t you pick the car up, dear?
Violent burns open you up from below –
To college I am going, to get my Bachelor’s degree.
I want to be a teacher. It’s something I’ve always wanted to be.
My classes require I practice the assignments, I might someday assign to my students.
Hush little baby don’t say a word
Or daddy’s gonna shoot you like a mocking bird
If that little wound don’t hurt like a bi*ch
Daddy’s gonna abandon you on a roadside ditch
Surfing these waves of allegation comes easy
to those born from the greenish foam
that lines an undulating ocean