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Soap Box Poets

The Singer
by Countney Stone-Moore

He's rightin his wrongs
Headin' towards the finish line
While all along singin' his songs

He remembers that sick feelin' of regret
That sometimes the sunrise would help bring along to life
When the fine lines would find the light

Can't even look at the photo
of grandma's hand opened onto her favorite verse
A feelin' of all black...
Where's the white on this Earth?

Hawk in the sky
Snake in talon
I wanna fly free like that
and kill my bad memory
of hurtin' you....you....you....

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