Staring at a cloud filled sky,
I simply wish to wonder why.
How I choose to live my days,
Working hard and lacking praise.
Diplomatic with my views,
I only wish I felt amused.
By endless voices all the same,
Expressing anger and taking aim.
They shoot great arrows of yellow fire,
Envy, distasteful, with tongues of a liar.
And as they tear, rip and scratch,
I only wish to find a hatch.
For curtailment of my tongue,
Expression is old, withered and numb.
Poison seeps into my mind,
How am I to stay kind?
But who am I to pass such blame?
For I'm an archer all the same.
I fire my arrows with such glee,
At lines of men, content and free.
How I wish, I could find,
Their contentment, yet still bind.
My search for greater horizons still,
Expression eloquent beyond my will.
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