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Rated: E · Poetry · Friendship · #684973
how much bad advice can I blindly follow?
         Babbling Apparently

Like a glass house's thrown rock
This chip off the ol' block
         is only a splinter.
I look gift horses in the mouth
And doubt that birds fly south
         for the winter.

I bite the hand that feeds
And speak using words not deeds
         for all the luck I can push.
I build my house on the sand
And drop the bird from my hand
         to chase those in the bush.

As the plot inevitably thickens
I dare to count my chickens
         before they hatch,
And holding its breaths
My mouth writes checks
         my body can't cash.

I fear everything but fear itself
And put your promises on the top shelf
         with every pretty thing I've ever heard.
I squiggle my own apostrophes
Into all these senseless sophistries
         because they're worth more than your word.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/684973