Once You've Picked Your Ticket

Once you've picked your ticket,
And there is a magic felt with it...
That's the ticket for you that fits.
One picked better than none,
To leave a numbing to overcome.
Take this ticket with you and run.

Exit from others who choose to bicker,
As if this makes their lives lived...
Done richer yet sickens a thickened,
And 'bummed' out atmosphere.
But you can clear the air you breathe,
By a counting from ten to one...then flee.

Once you've picked your ticket,
And there is a magic felt with it...
Exit from others who choose to bicker,
As if this makes their lives lived richer.
You can clear the air you breathe instantly,
By a counting from ten to one...then flee.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!