Whose Line Is It Anyway?A Poem by PeteThere's a special bucket in pergatory. And it ain't for fried chicken. It holds all the pieces that don't belong. Some are the missing. Some are extra. But they don't fit. Won't fit. Can't fit. Shouldn't fit. Not in this life anyway. At least not in a way that is accepted. They have rough edges. Crooked corners. Frayed fantasies. Fit no mold. Conform to no constructs. They live where others dare not. Dwelling in darkness. With a hint of light when the cover is lifted. One foot dangling in reality. The other planted firmly in the clouds. Tossed about by wisps of emotions like confetti. Free spirits no one understands. Their hearts beat differently. Their words flow freely. While everyone else clutches lies. They release truth. A complex network of frightful integrity and vision beyond the surface. Uninhibited emotions run deep and wide. Like a bottomless river. Magic wands wielded like majorettes twirling batons. They march to a different drummer. Flail about in a breathtaking break dance. Spinning on their heads for infinity and never falling over. Whirling dervishes. Never aligning. Not walking the line. They are fine. With beautiful minds. You can suck the life from them. But can never have their souls. No, they do not walk the line. But then again ... ... whose line is it anyway? © 2018 PeteFeatured Review
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Added on March 11, 2017Last Updated on January 30, 2018 AuthorPeteBoston, MAAboutI love reading, writing, music, nature, God and feeling emotion, not necessarily in that order. To me, these things go hand in hand. My favorite writer is Henry David Thoreau. I think he was a geni.. more..Writing
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