Because I will not stop for Love,
The world must pester me
Into a carriage bound away
From my identity.
The carriage takes a smoother path
Than I've cleared for myself.
It's said to be the thing to do,
and better for my health.
We pass a school yard, full of kids.
A handful there are mine.
They lightly tug me from my desk
With grips just like a vice.
We pass the office where I work–
It pays more than to teach–
Steady, secure, reliable
For stifling ideas.
Then I arrive at my old age.
Love drops me at a home.
I can't afford a cage like this
If I am on my own.
The destination, should I choose
To go where I am bidden,
Shall be the same grave as before,
But with my words unwritten.
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