By Matthew Paul Olmos
Oh what a disaster we can so quickly recognize
It takes not hours, nor minutes, nor moments
Like some unfamiliar scent in the air you can see with your eyes
And you know this is a wrong choice you’ve chosen
There is a twisting up in the clog of your throat
And crumpling down of the hope you had
There is a panic over your body whole
And your heart begins to grow a coldish gray over sad
And you wonder how your heart could have been so open wide
So blind and singsong
Off an on its own solitary lie
Singing some ridiculous song that goes on an on and on
And yes we should be so thankful for the lessons learned,
But really, what I want, is to set backwards my clock, turn and turn and turn.
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