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The Trickle Down

I sit in my confinement,
the key thrown out long ago.
Drip, Drip
I yearn for what used to be in my grasp.
Drip, it continues
I spoke out of line, too many times.
Now, I must watch my water trickle to me.
Drip, Drip.
It's all I have, so I don't complain.
If I speak I might not be treated to more.
Who controls the faucet?
Drip
There must be more than this.
Why can't we all be able to have what we need.
I know there is enough.
I used to run the faucet
Drip
But now I am at the mercy of few.
Waiting, hoping for the next drip.
The drip of a waterfall, that I know has more than enough.





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LovelyDuckling said...
May 23, 2012 at 1:55 pm
very good rhythm:)mind checking out my poem 'those things that never were'?
 
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