Counting

One for what I’ve done.
Two for what I plan to do.
Three for what I’ll be.
Four for what I was before.
Five ’cause I’m alive.
Six because there are no tricks.
Seven, sensing heaven.
Eight — can’t wait. I storm the gate.
Nine. I’m dying. I wail and whine.
Ten is when I’m zen.

But then, but then,
again, again, again…

Then comes little zero
with that hunger for the hero.
And from this hollow in my heart
I start.
I start.
I start.

 

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Counting

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