Ego slip slides in
on around and low below
seeking praise to win,

Turning rock rolling
stock bestowing ought or not
to humble showing.

Raised to beat meat,
demand entire street,
sneak sour to sweet,

Self parade going,
with no one else in glowing,
others needs mowing.

Walking endless path,
the heart and soul left for last,
mocking present past.

It’s a lonely road,
sad and long and ugly hard,
more like wart from toad.

Cease, ego disease,
go so we be free of me,
let self darkness ease.

– Smith, 5.28.2014


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