I just had to admit
that this will be the last
I mean the last
no more past
just future
my poetry comes first
before another smile
and a sloppy ass
you see, talent is the art
as the skill and craft
flows through the heart
protected by my soul that sometimes drifts apart
from my mind, my shine
a recluse wanting to come out of the mine
of the coal miners daughter
too many problems not enough water
too much time out of order
Falling in love with a quarter
of a man, that has his own plans,
to succeed beyond the physical greed
of a another man's confused
Damaged Seed
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