Wise Eyes

When there are weighs I don’t feel

and treasures too steel –

youth ink, I’m in what I say,

seem in to rest today?

Whistle well there are still

always lulls to fill – with my last will

you – no – eyes can’t justify meaning

so pre-tend, de-fend,

wise eyes don’t talk, they walk

along the corners of my fork

yearning to hold tools they pool

screaming loud: I am a fool.

When there are days I don’t deal

and feathers to peel

youth ink makes a mess

silly whirlds, did my best, spoke in chest.

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