Monday, April 25, 2016

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Five, Poem Twenty-One



Begin

No time
like past

wich for
good thing
what works

right foot
leaves no
prints

wrong way
leaves divets
ankle finds
in dark

on your
bruise mark
head start

you cant
associate
freely
forever

ready
set to fail
get judges
onside

last chance
gate open.

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