Poem: This Is The Real Thing.

This Is The Real Thing.


This world we know

Is not a playground,

It is a testing ground,

A school of thought

For who we think we are.

It is like a sweet shop

With the door unlocked,

An electric line-up

Of  hanging chickens.

We have a full free will

To take until we tire,

It is a place of infinite choice

But we will be presented,

Upon our last departure,

With a final accounting

For which we will fully pay.



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