a puddle of something that tastes, like nothing
it wastes, its reserves and savors its pain.
a boy with a cane, sadly stooping.
a sad drooping, flag.
the weight that i drag, makes me shriveled and weak.
wrinkly balloons that leak, musty hope.
a wandering soap,box on disfigured wheels.
feels, like i've piled up more than enough,
of the make-believe stuff, that everyone lacks,
but the facts, they so often varied.
i'm buried, in letters i thought really mattered.
tired of scattered, applause.
now i've cause, to abandon my world
i sang and i prayed. it amounted, to nothing
words must be weighed, and not counted.
