Rabbit

Runs like a rabbit from a shot that can’t catch her,

But the rope is still hers alone.

Always feels it in her,

Always feels it ready,

And she’s sinking like a stone.

And she can run,

And she can leap,

As far as any can go,

But at the end of the day,

It’s such a short way,

To the end of the rope.

 

– Continuation of one of the first poems I posted here, I finished it a while ago, but never actually wrote it down. Sometimes I sing this to myself while doing dishes.

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