hazy backyard philosophy

Trying to rhyme, head full of smoke.
a rock carved heart is better than what I wrote.
More creative, far more love,
something like that is what takes me above.
It’s what I gave my world.

Here’s what I gave my paper,

Gone in the wind,
breath like smoke.
life is for real,
the sun is our yoke.

Never really free,
Our world is our master.
Folks like you and me,
belong with the pastor.

Behind the veil we are similar,
As what makes us real in the eyes of each other
Is when we see our selves in one another.
Connecting on your terms make me your brother.

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