Flipping out,
Is what they'd say.
High-strung, and they
May be right,
(Maybe right?)
(Or do we go left?)
as my strings are pulled to their very very limit,
about to pop off,
at the end of the rope.
My out-of-patience-ness is
a lion,
waiting to see
what they prey in front of it will do,
but I'm the prey.
It's a clump of bright red radishes,
bursting with so much, too much flavor,
that it overwhelms my taste buds, overwhelms me.
It's my tired feet after a hike through my life,
buzzing with wanting to walk more but needing to rest.
Is what they'd say.
High-strung, and they
May be right,
(Maybe right?)
(Or do we go left?)
as my strings are pulled to their very very limit,
about to pop off,
at the end of the rope.
My out-of-patience-ness is
a lion,
waiting to see
what they prey in front of it will do,
but I'm the prey.
It's a clump of bright red radishes,
bursting with so much, too much flavor,
that it overwhelms my taste buds, overwhelms me.
It's my tired feet after a hike through my life,
buzzing with wanting to walk more but needing to rest.
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