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Runaway

They made me do it.

Don’t need to prove it
so cool it.
This is for the truants,
those loyal to a fault,
for the labels made us famous,
but judge not the nameless.
The faceless rock on changin’
because terrain remains brazen.

I’m crazy because I take it,
but it was only for the sake
of learning how to frame it.
The edge used to be fun
but when I see it now
I tell rookies run
from cops and crooks who carry guns.

I’m just a nerd who carries words.
Now you admit you need us.
Don’t front, believe us.
Take the time to teach us,
And we’ll take the time to teach you..
all about what you thought couldn’t be true.

Filed under: Poetry

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New Leaves on the Old Trees is a collection of poetry about love, war, death, rebirth, healing and transformation. Please feel free to leave any comments or questions. (under construction - thanks for following/liking in interim phase)

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