Word Struggles
She struggles with the things they say, It’s not the words, it’s just the way, She reads it, but it doesn’t seem clear, What will we do with her? I often hear. She knows the things she feels inside, Quite happy, she doesn’t want to hide, But when it comes to philosophy, She’s lost, can’t read what others see. I think it’s blockage of the brain, That causes this, the doctor’s say, Or maybe it’s just meant to be, So she only sees, what she should see. I’ve heard her say the words dance round, She’s mad they say, lives underground, Doesn’t live like us, never asks her fate, Just accepts her lot, like an empty plate. So how can it be, that without advice, She lives in peace, and seems quite nice, Never asks for more, than you or me, Yet seems as happy as she can be. Maybe then, I should just try and see, If her way can also work for me, But first of all, I’ll read this book, Won’t hurt to see, just take a look. Then I’ll know if she’s right, I’ll learn the pages by day and night, If she’s as wise as they are then, To hell with the teachings of other men… Barb February, 2002-02-08 Written August 2nd, 2002 © on Jun 25 2002 08:56 AM PST 0 • 13
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"She struggles with the things they say,..."