He's been worn
and shed, hung up
as an old coat,
battered with brooms
and with old rakes
to shake off the dust.
"I will not be a sheep,
crying to be fed."
He clenches his teeth,
stretches his lips,
works out the stiffness
brought on by nerves.
He convinces himself,
so that he may convince them.
"And when I am no more -
and I will be no more -
I will be validated
or I will be vilified."
_________________________________________________
Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Shad, I Get Down
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