Who is in charge of the past? Tell me Mr. Ross Abbot, Tell me. I know you know, I see you there on the stoop, Staring blankly At the traffic parade. As if! I know you know everything. Tell me right now. Why did I do this? Think that? Why did I quit, fight or forget, Hurt, soar, or regret? Why did I win so fully but feel so fallen? Why won’t I let myself? Anything? Ever? Why am I free, Yet still feel so responsible? You know Mr. Ross Abbot. Tell me! I see you there on the stoop. I know you are in charge of the past!
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Really enjoyed the poem, AND the sketch, BB!