Checks You Can’t Cash

Do you live your whole life

  in a half empty space

 

Do you swear up and down

  your excuses defaced

 

Do you sing in a choir

  where the music has died

 

Do you brand all as liars

  as your tongue remains tied

 

Do you rob from the master

  just to steal from the slave

 

Do you hide in a mansion

  built on top of your grave

 

Do you look for direction

  trails barren and thin

 

Does your soul beg correction

  torn away from within

 

Do you begin every sentence

  tracing back to the past

 

Do you waste precious moments

   —writing checks you can’t cash

 

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2016)

 

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