Pride of a Passable Poet

I stand on the edge a cliff grazing the night sky scratching the surface mile upon inked mile alphabetical genius of truer grandeur ant before giants my filthy big eyes wander past cloud-ridden heads fingernails stretched out silent shouts for half a dime sweet graffiti prose standing on the edge of alphabetical greats my cloud-ridden head writer in a daze a cockroach contribution to a gold ink stream Is it truly worth this endless predictable hassle I drown in? Written By: June Rossaert

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