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To Stop

Telling the truth,
Wiping all slates clean;
Wanting to go back with the youth
and for surely making all truths be seen.

Fly away on a midsummer's day,
Stream past like the silver hawk.
Circling low, looking for the right way;
and make certain I can never again be the point of mock.

To overdo it at times is pleasent
Painting on a mask of expenses;
Ugly words coming from a bitter mouth
and flinching at the hatred.

Stand up to the blows
Who knows-
It could be worth it...

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