The line

It’s all about the senses
that rely on having fences
around what we think we want.
But it’s that want itself
that’s breaking shelves
that makes us want to flaunt.

And in this time
we try to shine
between what blocks the light,
just to feel bliss
and not just amiss
and always wanting to fight.

It’s because it’s as if
our hands just sift
through the things we need to hold,
like words that slip
right off our lips
that makes us seem so bold.

Bold in the answers
like conversations cancer
when what should help never does
and it’s left to comfort
without the effort
of worrying about a cause.

Because there’s always someone
who’s forcing a fathom
into the mouths of other people,
they take such care
and are constantly aware
of such things as good and evil.

But this is about who cares
and to those who play fair,
who respect that there’s a line.
One to be known
in respect that it’s grown
from mumbled warning signs.

Because it’s on top of towers
that we let things sour
and fall into darker states,
where no one can lean
and nothing is seen
and nothing no longer relates.

To the way we feel
when we’re forced to steal
and pride is what we forfeit,
I say we see the line
and say it’s time
that we all now finally cross it.

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About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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