I'm just not going to
Remember.
Grass is green.
Snow is cold.
I have been so conditioned. These are considered the obvious. Society drills this so greatly into our environment that our first intuition is not
How lions have committed souls,
Grass blows in the wind,
Or that snow burns a warm face.
In order to see a new perspective, we must train ourselves against condition. Then society is conditioned to consider us strange.
This is a clean piece of paper.
Well, it was, anyway.
Well, this side of it was, anyway.
Actually, it never was really "clean".
It was more like: unused.
It was nieve.
Oh, and you could say it was empty.
I used to be the way this paper was.
Except, this paper can never again
Be empty.
I can.
I am.
All day long and never think.
Dew trickles upon the grass.
Frightening poems.
But they are not poems.
They are my thoughts.
Thoughts from my brain,
From my heart,
My fingertips.
If you can tell where they
Are from.
Then you can see the
Poetic rhyme.
So that I may drown
In your waves of pain.
Line after line,
Inscribing your soul
Without limit of time.
Upon the table bidding
Me to swallow
Its contents just sitting.
See the acid swirling,
in the water flowing,
Thrust at me to drink
Its poison just a-swirling.
Glass is clear and thus is showing
The trials my life is plowing -
My arms forced and flailing.
My peers the clear is showing.