by Linda M. Crate
you honk like a goose
loud, conveying nothing —
your words undeciphered
even to the wind; you’re
the type that speaks only to
hear yourself and your
perceived brilliance that
no one fathoms; you exude
all the right words of intelligence,
and yet you forget that in your
arrogance you are you’re only
friend; no one can stand the
man that’s always right —
however, you seem to have
not yet learned this knowledge,
perhaps because it requires more
than just opening a book; it’s
necessary to open your heart.
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