Story of Wo’s (Poem)

Living here in the hell, of the bell, someone fell.
Through the leaves they go.
Straight on down, to the crown, truth is found.
Do we really want to know.
Release the hound.
Will be found.
Make no sound.
Now we frown.

Wo so sad, had a stand, now its just a brand.
Not the brand of want, not the brand of need, yet the brand they heed.
To the wood in speed, run away indeed, no one wants to flee.
Through the woods they go, never going slow, this is but a deed.
No more hounds, but the sounds, all around, wo’s still not free.

Wo so sad, makes me mad, all too bad.
The wo can not see.
Hide they might, for a night, not a spree.

Wo can hide, or confide, get a ride, is it just a fee.
To the front, no big hunt, not a runt, listen closely to me.

Wo’s need help, with a yelp, please set them free.

Gone too long, things go wrong, cant you see?
All in you, trees are true, for a few, no loose screw.

The wo’s you hide, only ride, make you cry.
Find the good, as you should, set these wo’s free.

–Bryan Vest

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