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High Anxiety

Is there joy among us?
Are we in our prime
Or are we laboring
Feeling no inspiration
Only doing our job

Are we our own healers?
Do shaman’s pass us by?
A street corner poet
Uncounted by life
Only by politicians

We can’t take back time
The river we’re on said so
Always moving downstream
Can we start things over?
To swim back is a revolution

I’d rather get right off now
Wet as the water itself
A cold and hungry soul
I’m not waiting for a savior
At least not while I’m here

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