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Giving A Fool To Fate

The anchor at the lake bottom,
Is rusted to the core.
But it sits there heavily,
Never nearing shore.
To the anchor a rope’s attached,
Tangled in the pool.
Never fraying or drifting off,
It’s tangled to a fool.
The fool was once a smart young lass,
Who frolicked blissfully.
Then she found the shiny anchor,
Propped up by a tree.
To the anchor a rope’s attached,
It had clearly been unused.
She tied the rope around her leg,
She must have been confused.
She thought it would be great fun,
To pull some extra weight
But the obligation burdened her,
Until she couldn’t concentrate.
Her concentration left her there,
And then she was alone.
Just a fool, an anchor, and a rope,
And no one with whom to moan.
So now the anchor is at the lake bottom,
It’s rusted to the core.
Holding down the roped-up fool,
Who made her life no more.
She couldn’t bother with the burden,
That herself, she did create,
So she threw the anchor in the lake,
To give a fool to fate.

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