"It"

-It-
by
Keaton Foster



It
What
That
This
Explain
Explore
Define
Some more
Understand
Ignore
It
About living
About dying
All can be
And should be
Such a chore
Words at times
Do snore
Someday
Some get
Others
Not so much
Are they stupid
Or just too smart
Not sure
Where
And how
Could I begin
Understanding
Such a tedious thing
It
What
That
This
Explain
Explore
Define
Some more
Always
I’m writing
Always
I’m tying
Rarely
I’m living
Rarely
I’m succeeding
Sadness deplored
Happiness ignored
The middle
Existence
In between
It
What
Not sure
I try
Of course
Some more
What else can I do
Nothing
Never
No way
Will I ever know
Nothing is for sure
Maybe
Not until I’m gone
Will all things make sense
Do they have to
Not sure
Not even in the slightest
Does “it” mean what I think
Or like all else
Just a word
Spoken
Shoved
In and out of context
Making forced connections
Where there are none
Such a thing would be
Heck even should be
Absurd
It
The eyes see between
The “I” and the “T”
Beauty made beast
Words turned messages
Subtle do they scream
Forever
Upon this subject
I could bleed
But be assured
I certainly won’t
It
Simple enough
Then again
Maybe not…




It
Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2012.