There are days like today when words seem to come from someplace else.
He reads and worries that the words are from a well that is deep and damaged.
Untrue and unfounded
Because these words are not mine
They don’t belong to me
I am but a tool
The fool is someone else.
And a fool’s folly
Is in waiting for the inevitable to happen
To hope against hope
For a way to stop it
Because the fool’s heart
Believes in miracles
A fool’s prayers
Can turn the world upside down
And the tool’s destiny
Is to watch the inevitable destruction
And write words, deep and damaged