I am the man with verses in his head
without these verses written, I'd be dead.
I'll force a laugh, I'll force a silly rhyme,
a perfect tool, I think, for passing time.
I started bleeding verse in middle school,
a tired loser, rotund and uncool,
but things can change, oh I was loved and lost,
and (natur'lly) by this fucked-up tempest tossed.
I'm in my 20s now, I'm living on,
(and also, by some standards, living wrong)
but I do what I must (and so it goes)
and what will I write next? Nobody knows.
Oh look, a sonnet! but I forced some rhymes.
Thank God I won't hang for that petty crime.
without these verses written, I'd be dead.
I'll force a laugh, I'll force a silly rhyme,
a perfect tool, I think, for passing time.
I started bleeding verse in middle school,
a tired loser, rotund and uncool,
but things can change, oh I was loved and lost,
and (natur'lly) by this fucked-up tempest tossed.
I'm in my 20s now, I'm living on,
(and also, by some standards, living wrong)
but I do what I must (and so it goes)
and what will I write next? Nobody knows.
Oh look, a sonnet! but I forced some rhymes.
Thank God I won't hang for that petty crime.
Recent Tweets
@zachjpayne
Trapped forever
within a cell of stone,
she has come
to see this butterfly,
which is nothing more
than a burn upon the stone
as a symbol of hope.
She ever dreams
of life beyond the cell,
yet she has long admitted
within her heart of hearts
that she will never be released.
She will clutch at that wall
and ever hope to soar away
on the wings of her butterfly;
until she takes her last breath
and her eyes close to darkness
not much different than the shadow
in which she already lives.
-
cccrazyworld likes this
-
morgentraeumer posted this
