I never know when it is that I’ll cross a line
Between each state, my next mistake, or maybe when I rhyme
It’s guaranteed, I will succeed, it shouldn’t take much time
I’ve been practicing since I was young like I’m meeting a deadline
Some would even say that I was born without a spine
It’s difficult to receive help even if I hold a sign
If given any choice they’d likely toss me with the swine
Do they know it’s not the mud from which I begrime

© Delia Ross. 2019

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