There’s a flight I must make,
For if I don’t they’ll be a great wake.
A wake of life’s lessons learned,
And relationships adjourned.
Whenever space infringes upon space,
Like an orb spider spins its cosy web of lace,
A bed of no return it makes.
Free myself of the tangles of life about,
Take to the air, grow, and mind my ears,
So that all will become clear.
It’s the creator’s way, webs of life entangled,
And time to fly,
Yes, time to be free,
From this entanglement of debris.
Yes, I must retire,
From this place of disgrace,
So I don’t become part of this dire rat race.
-Jefferson Davis-
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I like this poem.
I think it’s pretty good.
So where would you like to go Jeffy?
Oh, I think you know where I’d fly to.
To be honest, I don’t even like this poem. It’s just random cerebrations fitted together. I feel that it’s missing, but eh?