Slab of Life

It’s a long walk life,

up high peaks,

over hot coals,

always looking over

my shoulder for strife,

the chill of the knife,

I held in my hands,

it commands, it damns,

blood that spills, draws the lambs.

I’m there, 547 steps up

this long life-the high peak

half sky high, if your meek

don’t even stand, the soil

of this ancient land

fills my lungs with the fire you seek

but I only look to wage peace so

I demand you cease this desperate plea

for another proverbial piece of the pie.

Stop the lies, I know

we all compromise, but

when you get to the top all ways go

dowwwwn.

 

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