I sit at home yet again
My porch lighten up by the aurora of the dusk
Its the stage to this play exemplified by colors
Reflecting my mood as I rock my chair back and forth
The pinks and blues and greens and other hues
God's art keeps me sane no strain in my brain
Until a new color is shown
The devil's read makes me moan and groan, tempting me
My mind is bending like the bridge that my daughter loves so
But my mind is made out of Popsicle sticks not bricks
So I go in the house, I let the door creek
And I don't listen when the weak speak
I love my daughter with all my heart
But my brain absorbs the love and abhors the hug
I walk down the hall her door to the right
The bright streaks from the window giving me light
I am not me I am he, the monster
Who replaces comfort with resent
I am the bed bug that bites at night
The door is open no one in sight














Comments
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lookin good, good lookin!
William Blake is my hero.
fav'ed (:
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.Me and my extendable fork will one day RULE THE WORLD.
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