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I
DON'T
KNOW
WHAT
TO
W R I T E.
EVERY
TIME
I DO
SPEAK
ASK FOR
SOMETHING
MY HEART WANTS
YEARNS FOR
I AM SENT BACK TO MY
P R I S O N
OF 'HERE'
FOR A CRIME
OF EXISTING.
'UNTIL I LEARN'
THEY
SAY.
'UNTIL I LEARN' HOW TO
DO
THINGS
PROPERLY
WITH PERFECTION
WITH TASTE
WITH SOMETHING TO E N T I C E
THE MASSES
WHOM CONTROL MY LIFE.
BUT I CANNOT FATHOM
WHAT PERFECTION LIES BEYOND
THIS FLAWED, SIMPLE
GHOST
OF A SOUL
A MERE APPARITION OF YOUR SENSES AND DREAMS
A GOAL ONE'S HEART HAS LONG CAST
A LONG
DARK SHADOW ON.
I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOUR BEING YEARNS FOR
NOR EXPECTS
WHEN READING THIS--
I AM NOT A SEER.
BUT I THINK I HAVE DONE A FINE JOB
EXPRESSING
CONFIRMING
DECORATING
YOUR E X P E C T A T I O N S
WITH MY FRAGILE
BUT DELIBERATE
STROKES
OF MY THOUGHTS.
SO PLEASE
DON'T
BE DISAPPOINTED
WHEN YOU THINK THE PARTY'S OVER
AND STRIP WHAT I'VE WORKED SO HARD FOR
DOWN TO SHREDS
DOWN TO THE
A B Y S S
OF LOST T O U G H T S.
Don't pretend you're in control of this.
You don't
k n o w
what disappointment is.
YOU ARE READING
THOUGHTLESS │✔️
PoetryThe words The petals On a flower that Thrives by appearance Is only Will merely Be a flimsy Taste of what's inside Why price By the eyes The symmetry Of flawed beauty As though As most Are weighed by Thoughtless ideals For those Four arrows A sma...
