Poem: Making Room

By Jack Brummet 

First, God issued me a soul,
And yelled to the drummers
"Let it roll!"

And down down down I went.
Within hours, my twig was bent.
Within years, I'd be paying rent.

For what it was worth,
I crowned on earth
And was showing signs

Of showing signs
So they checked to see
If my eyes aligned.

Before I was allowed to bloom,
They had to fill another tomb.
Out with the bad

And in with the good,
They had to make room.
I understood.
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