On What There Is

There is a different joy in leaving
In progressive ways of healing,

There is a fright felt in our calm
Questions, facts and qualms,

There is a pretty girl who’s bleeding
And a hundred men retreating,

There is a sorrow in our delight
A negative optimist and his plight,

There is a patience in our hunger
That fills us up from under,

There is a silent man this evening
His thoughts, they seem appealing.

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