Lunch Box

Hale

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Lunch Box

I am the borderline.
I hassle and thrash with my rein
I am the vaccine to life
The syringe that draws the shame
Perhaps lover's cure for lust,
Is not withdraw or defeat
In fact, my lines are indeed a prison
A plug to contain a leak

If my sheep were meant to flourish
And their numbers to be sent avast
Their knowledge would not be cherished
Their freedom would become their mask

These patriotic missions
and futile goals of greed,
Their minds gone awry
Wrapped around this septic feed
My border may be insecure
And its purpose could be fallacious
But they make is easy for me
Because they are spread and spacious
 
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