wag
Let them fray their tongues
there’s poetry yet to be written
W.E.
They’ll talk until their tongues fray
But I’ll love them with my poetry anyway
When their lips can’t pass a word to say
I’ll be their voice, and for their souls pray
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As much as I’d love to help everyone, I can’t,
Not especially people who are conniving
Who I see from far horizons
Approaching with wild ego’s galloping
As if I was a carcass for feasting
They make for good muses.
The talking is a given. They won’t stop. That’s their job.
My job is to pay attention and extract the nuances of the human condition.
W.E.
lonerloaner 