I think that it is just proper to finish this "poetry" thang of mine, since I came to the conclusion that I am the eccentric-est person in the whole universe, but still, I am loved.
Which, by the way, is the most incoherent sentence I've made in the past 24 hours because I have no better excuse for me to be finishing this piece--and I really want to boast out that someone whom I like likes me too.
I also like the taste of broccoli because I believe in peace.
That, my friends, was the second most incoherent line that I've dropped all day.
Which, by the way, is the most incoherent sentence I've made in the past 24 hours because I have no better excuse for me to be finishing this piece--and I really want to boast out that someone whom I like likes me too.
I also like the taste of broccoli because I believe in peace.
That, my friends, was the second most incoherent line that I've dropped all day.
Creativity is a Gun.
Close your eyes, paint the untold;
Stare at a canvas--watch it unfold.
Grip on its neck and swipe the chords;
Write it all down, strum in accord.
Be in prose or in poetry,
Retell balance and asymmetry;
Stain the minds with your ivory.
Thoughts surpass the horizons--
And have understood the limpity of oblivion.
In art, my brethren, you have pathed* the vagabonds.
Creativity is a gun in which you and I have fallen for,
It is a threat thay you have beseeched to agree and follow--
Or to die without a name, no mark, not at all.
\:D/
*Pathed is not a real word, but I guess that you get what I mean, froiks.
Thoughts surpass the horizons--
And have understood the limpity of oblivion.
In art, my brethren, you have pathed* the vagabonds.
Creativity is a gun in which you and I have fallen for,
It is a threat thay you have beseeched to agree and follow--
Or to die without a name, no mark, not at all.
\:D/
*Pathed is not a real word, but I guess that you get what I mean, froiks.
No comments:
Post a Comment