Amidst the unquenchable noise which drones on,
Opinions, of what use are these things, opinions
Pinning us, in the heel, we grow, tired, more thoughts
Opinionated now. Aide in the form of maladaptive
Newly formed sought, drive, and towards the cliff
A bluff, which the ball flies, off, toward the sky,
Opinion left soaring into the nowhere ether of
Languished land, the sea swallowing up whole
what was left of this side, that effect, what was
Opinion, is frozen in the shadow of nothing that was
Different sides, balance in the risen racked room
The sarcophagus the tomb, has no opinion.
Christopher Baird 2012 ©
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