One takes the path of least resistance.
A steady pace in a flowing stream
a slotted entryway beneath a city on fire.
the valleys of courage dry and withered.
no rain to come for months.
One prays a storm is coming.
Excuse me
Teach me the ways of your reality.
Culture me in your views on society
lecture me on the skin and bones of sobriety
where can I bury my empty shell?
You are unaware of my concerns
I am not impressed
no work of yours will earn your keep
no chance in hell you wasted creep.
*cough
Bless you
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