Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Jonathan Beale- A Poem


They’re taught to play the games
Without their real names
Yet with names or without
You can always hear them shout
They echo invisible around every place
With style, charm, and grace
Whimsically dancing
You think there’re enhancing
Yet beneath the skin
You’ll never feel the pierce of the pin
Of the tattoos mythical ink
 Marked out. A sitting duck must sink
And  so ask, “What is, and why?”
Until we meet again. It is goodbye.

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