White Picket Fence
The brown leaf
Trails along the wickets
Of the white picket fence
I want to bite the hand that feeds me
The fence is scraped
From the constant passing of a child
Bearing a stick
Marking the passage of time
A twitch of tail
A wicket slipped
The arrogance
Of the neighbors cat
Leap over it
And go south
South of the border
To sunny care free days
The birds come and go
It never really was a fence
A symbol of hubris
And of foolish wishes
It keeps me in
More than it keeps them out
I've been fed lies
I want to bite the hand that feeds me
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