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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Years and years pass

He looks out through glass

Passively thinking about lost time,

Brooding over his failure to perform

Angry at his lack of will.

 

The glass reflects his thoughts,

Cold and clear.

Outside the grass gently rustles with the soft blow of the wind.

Inside the air is stall and old.

Children play outside

They jump through sprinklers.

Screaming with glee.

 

In his mind the same tune replays,

His wife leaving, his children fading.

The alcohol that took him to the edge.

With his children in the back seat.

 

One to many was to much.

0.8 and his vision blurred.

He didn’t realize how fast he was going.

Didn’t see the tree.

 

To gone to buckle his children in,

Like two doves they flew.

Breaking the glass hitting the road,

Gone was their turn.

 

A slap on the wrist,

And he was free.

His wife gone,

He alone,

Cold thoughts and the ghostly laughter

of his children all he has left.

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