Irish Blood runneth in my veins;
And in my soul temper reigns.
Beware, the unknown traveler bold,
For hate makes the heart grow cold.
Knowing not where your future lies,
If you dare, look deep in my eyes.
And see yourself repeat
The omen of defeat
The benefit of the doubt
And eventually the truth will out.
As you struggle to regain,
That which was lost in vain.
This poem was Published in the March/April 2003 edition of 3 Cup Morning under a previous name..
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