arc of an arrow

the time

when I held the ‘rents

to blame

for everything

then I moved on some

took it all on

my own shoulders

habits good & bad

laziness

leanings to & against

whatever you got

& more

& all the time the arrow

was flying

seeking home

earth

for me to finally understand

I am a mixed up volume

of writings

from those before

those I meet along the way

& my own jottings

first in crayon then pen

carved in wood & stone

as my hands got stronger

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