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In Your Hands...

The soul stirs, such bold words
Reality checks, but no verbs
This cold world, though gold hurled
Is priceless like rolled pearls
Told girls to be women, isn’t that the string in a hair ribbon
Subtract the science and then minus the facts or the fiction
Restrictions to diction, air restricted is an unknown affliction
A prince is only offensive if he’s in another’s jurisdiction
Picture the mind state of great Apes and look closely
Proportionally wise and attired appropriately
Emotionally inept yet with steps ordered as Christians
Listen to the sound of pomp, circumstance and tradition
A fitting crescendo, mentals quicken to blend souls
The risk – low as angelic signals whisper innuendo
I stand on the isle, I’ll ask the fabric the past
Aisles of brashness in cold plastic cast
The rashness of survival leaves pupils glazed over
Display clovers in four dimensions til night and days over
Bad luck and cold shoulders, rock bottom…
Submerged boulders
Can we just handle Life…I don’t know, ask the holder….

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