Hovering on the edge of hell
Anvil ankles like white egg shell
Dragged from baby frame to mountain male.
Look behind, a crying trail.
A dream did tell.
There is a future, know it well.
Did you see yourself there, promoted?
Did you see yourself there, wealthy?
Did you see yourself there , healthy?
Did you see yourself there, happy?
Handbrake turn slammed, SLAM this angry sham of a man.
Shake , rattle, roll. Reject the fake fatal flawed foil.
Now go. RUN.
by Paul Sinclair