Something is wrong with America. We don't write in Poems anymore. I'm trying to change this!
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As I sit in this pool of reflection, two birds pass over my head.
Piercing, chirping, echoing, without echo, bringing you to heaven dry land.
'Intentions', and 'Expectations' I decided after much thought, that they should be the two bird's name.
I saw a brighter World ahead, and I welcomed it.
And then I took one step, and then another...
Oh the freedom of free verse.