ara

I found this poem I wrote. I haven;t seen it in a while I thought it was pretty good. I'll try to type it so you can rhyme it, it rhymes.

Sometimes I feel as I'm wandering aimlessly through this thing we call existence.

Doing what I'm told, due to depleting resistance.

Must we all suffer for the things we think we need?

Must we fill this empty time
with empty thoughts
of things devine?
Or should we live the way we want
to help replenish
creative thought?!

I sometimes feel I have no choice
I'll be a drone
without a voice

I'll slave away
for minimum wage, in the end only granted a shallow grave.
With a stone above my head,
I'll lie in my eternal bed.


Yay for copyright. And yay for crappy poetry.