A Forbidden Anticlimax

- Zero Or Prologue -

The following is not a poem or a play, it’s not a song or a prayer. It is my thoughts organized in short lines atop of each other, and grouped in knots of four.

- I -

Take off the judge robes, or keep them on
I am not excited that I’m going home
Perhaps it’s work, or school, maybe
Or a society that keeps a close eye on me

- III -

I am a traitor
Or too cocky and crooked
For not missing a place
And finding comfort elsewhere

- III -

Luckily, I don’t see things that way
Where I lay my head is home
What is left of Jordan,
Anyway?