Goats And Sheep


If I should find you lying on the side of the road,

With bruises, and cuts, and blood, and filth,

And I turn away from the stench of you,

I will have become as if your assassin

You will stand up as if my accuser

In those moments of choosing,

A chasm both left and right,

Will separate fake words,

From our true works,

As we then scatter

Like dead seeds

After a blast.



Copyright 2017

Image Credit: Pixabay


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