Bed Head

take my thoughts and eat them,
take my words and toss them over the harbour wall,
take my smiles and turn them into your own,
take my anger and keep it locked in a secret place.
the world will use you up
and take you down
and squeeze you dry
and wear you out.
but not me.
no sir.
I stand here and lean against the
rushing
pushing
unquenchable
tide,
and I will prevail,
though get,
inevitably,
wet.



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