Cool wind blows
Autumn's herald harkens
Balls sweat no more
Cool wind blows
Autumn's herald harkens
Balls sweat no more
No poem has ever instilled such wistful hope in me before
And as the leaves fall, I am falling for them.
Fuck this shit
I want out
Let me go
Home
Written like a man at work on a slow day!
Roses are dead, Violets are dead, I suck at gardening.
With practice makes… ah, yes, of course, more dead flowers.
😭 nooo I can change
We need rain, I'm told.
It rains, complaints grow tenfold.
The rain disrupts the soil, the soul disrupted in turn.
Don't tell me
What to do
You're not my dad
Shit, ten words spot on
You'll wish you'd chosen
not to leap
right...
about...
now
As my life flashes before me,
I suddenly love it.
What even is a poem?
I never understood art really...
I see what you did there sir
Fucking fuck. Fuck me dude. Fucking hell I swear. Fuck
Dude I cracked lol
That's fucking beautiful, dude.
Calm and contented
For nothing happened today.
I am satisfied
I lack the wit, so I can't rhyme for shit.
The poems
I wrote,
I love 'em
but I'm broke.
The glowing sun projects its rays, consciousness reflects the age.
My mind slows, but the world hastens with every day.
In the night we can't see an absence of light
Hodor hodor hodor,
Hodor hodor.
Hodor hodor hodor,
Hodor hodor.
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Poetry is hard to
women, girls, ladies
a lifetime is insufficient
to appreciate you
Vainly struggle
Against ill intent
Until we recede
Into oblivion
Crushing reality, Hurtling towards destruction. I need to do more.
Hands upon fretboard
Staring quietly
Playing frippery
Three truthless chords
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