Tired, sad
Lonely and afraid.
Only hopes and dreams that tease me
Seem to mean a thing
Until they're over.
Then I'm here again,
Dreading dangers and derangements,
Taking pains from the arrangements
In my head.
Smelling sulfur,
Racking up a trust of suffering
That bursts into an ulcerous laugh.
Wolves are worries to a sheep.
The Shepard has a sturdy staff,
But all I have is concrete shoes
And hurried feet.
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