To aim is to already be shot

Out of a run on your intentions 
Cannon dodder's fool folds
Bill the check to the right
The target missed your dot
By too little to matter

You've been scattered, unbanked by the river
Flow was your goal and instead you're another rock
Stuck between fellow pebbles, jostling for ocean
Will you make it?

There's a dump in the lake
That car you crashed will be your eventual home
A million miles from tides and the delta

Coulda shoulda changed the note
A hundred makes almost two dozen dives
Grievous wounds which may have never been

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