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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Comedy >> ID #1505549 |
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My father walks a lonely road,
A road that leads to nowhere. He will not stray far from the road, The road that leads to nowhere. He can’t turn back, he never will. Dust stirs as he walks past. The only signs of life are goats, Grazing on dead grass. The lonely road could lead to glory, Victory, the crack of the bat, Ivy walls, and cheerful songs, But he will never reach that. Why does he walk this lonely road? He knows the mess he’s in. I’m sure he knows. It’s crystal-clear: The Cubs will never win.
© Copyright 2008 Ima Weirdo (UN: beatlefan at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
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