Member Poem

your sorry that isn't there I don't need

your ego filled with greed I won't feed

you may have left your seeds

but that doesn't replace your deeds

at first there was no speed

now I find no heed

I had to bleed to be freed

plead to proceed

in a creed of green weeds

on a steed at high-speed

your misdeeds recede

as healthy as flaxseed

I am done too, indeed

all that's left is to succeed

until then I'll rewrite and reread

marching with the legs of a centipede