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A Forced Poem
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2018 Passion pandering, like jury rigging,
Meanders through your meanings.
Capturing caring, travailing on the course of love,
Deflates in the face of felicity, and failure to show
The meaning to merger.
Its not there.
Its not anywhere.
Pocketing prose to find your poetry,
Doesn’t make you a scribe of heights.
But, a well dug thought to a spring within,
Will straight way compose
A passion not pandered,
And a jury not rigged.
