WINNER'S CIRCLE
I have skated through my toxic
clouds wherever I have met them:
grueling circles of false remorse,
piles of dead things in barnyard
fashions. My entryways through
tumults and terrors all seemed
alike to me. But, now?
-
Now I watch the horses in their
folds. They are wearing Winter
blankets to ward off their cold.
I am told these are racehorse
bred and pampered for the
later contests to come. I feel
elated at that news?
-
What have I done to reach this
pass? The only conflicts I've ever
had have been with me, myself.
We never seem to agree, the two.
Distended matter, a circumstance
all itself, will bring no respite to
this quandary - What am I, and,
lastly, why am I? The ruler, I've
been told, always wins the jackpot.
Where is his spot, where I should
not be standing.
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