poetry

tsk-tsk

I can't count the times my momma tsk-tsked it.

I can’t count the times my momma tsk-tsked it,
And I know that blue-haired hawk, to this very day,
Would beg the fool’s point that I’d all but missed it;
Had I’ve been the lesser man that might’ve been the way,
Yet crazy has somehow saved my life more than it has risked it.


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