Frustration fries the brain with lighting flashes
Boom bang, brain dead, damaged and done, the price
Paid for intelligence ignites isolation
Of your thoughts ticking away falling, festering the pain
Placing pieces of charred clutter is difficult
The damage done detains the creative cultivation of
Pleasant and prolific proclamations.
Sewn with my own two hands (Title)
Lately it seems, one by one
That all my substance has come undone.
My stuffing busting out, and my seams breaking free
Now that checkered pattern on me,
Ain’t what it used to be.
Looking for holes to cover,
I got caught up in the patchwork,
Now the checks are minuses
almost nothing
Could mend me…until
I found a shiny needle and some new thread
Now I know there’s more than fluff in
This head
Pleasant (Title)
Beautiful birds’
Loud words
Look like music
Bouncing from
Beak to tree
Surrounding
Me with a
Soundtrack
On the way back
From school.
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