Why can't i hide,
in a box for a King
filled on the inside
with all that hard work could bring?
Why can't i hide
on the throne by the queen
living so wide - eyed
without the city scope scene?
Why can't i break apart
or dismantle the core;
the way the heart
has been run so far?
and Why can't i tear into
the story i wrote
and change the pages construe
onto a more amorous note?
well, noone said i can't .
© 2010 The Still Air
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