Untitled Poem 10-09-2015


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Is it too late?  Has the dice already

been cast against my favor?  Was

there any ever chance to begin with?  Was

it all supposed to fall apart like some,

tragic, clichéd, harlequin twist?

If this is all that’s meant for this bit

player and this made for television

disaster, then let the director recast.

in the grand scheme of mediocrity

there is no real failure.  We are all

just cast to our cosmic pigeon holes,

meant to linger, stagnate. Now, in

my folly, failure, and foil, I know that

 tearing, to be thrown aside.  Not good,

never good, unable to burst forth from

this disposition like the fabled caterpillar

  into the glorious monarch.  No, not for

all of us.  Sometimes, more often than

not, our wings, like failures on the ground,

appear already torn and useless; never

able to fly.  Just another failure.   

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