Followers

Friday, 30 November 2018

Fools Don't Use Tools

  I am out in the open
With my mouth closed,
As what was spoken
Is duly now disclosed.
 
I’m wet with tears from years
Of transgressing my insane fears,
I was unwell suffering a mad hell
Alone in a psychiatric hospital cell.
 
Come around to the euphonious sound
That is heavenly found to be bound
In and around the moat where I gloat
Under a spell of a throttling throat.
 
My words were daft, I need a raft
To escape this pool of being a fool,
Come hither and weather together
With what tools you can master.
 
© Andrew Stevenson 21/06/2017
 
An edited piece.
 
Thank you. Love love, Andrew.

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