True as ever, one thing will remain forever constant,
An innocent's action always caught in limbo,
While actions of less deserving fly through the clouds,
Free of notice.
It takes more than bad luck to always be where I am now,
It takes more.
I was born with a hope looming just shy of my reach.
Twisted as it might seem,
It will forever escape my palm's embrace.
Floating on and away to a beautiful place,
I'll never know.
But my place is in limbo, wide-eyed and speechless,
Blanketed with roses on the cheeks of an innocent man,
Suspended in a diamond held by my captor's eye.
Its the constant of blossoming chance that will lead everyone out.
Some will emerge and stretch out their talons, with arms long enough to reach across a gorge of failure.
Others born not so lucky.
No, terribly too unlucky,
Will ever, save me.
Its too late,
I'm gone, oh,
I was wrong,
For far too long,
Now its only, this cold desolate jail-cell,
In the prison of another's distrust and timing, that I cannot escape.
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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack
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