...so do we make poems now? XD
Eh. Might as well give it a shot.
Liar LiarUncertainty clouds my judgement.
I wonder what I do wrong.
I think to myself, as I always have.
I think about my past.
I think only about what my mind will let me remember,
A puzzle, that has lost a most of it's pieces.
And somehow I must figure out the picture.
And I lie to myself.
I tell myself I have figured it out,
that I know what the problem is this time for sure.
This time for sure, this time, for sure.
This time was like last time.
It was a mirage. One only I could believe.
And once I came to my answer that I knew was wrong,
but said was right.
And once I came to this answer that was about me,
but really, about a liar.
I know these answers are wrong.
I can't tell who I am, and so I look for others to tell me,
and they do. But I can't hear them.
I'm blind because I want to be,
I'm death because I want to be,
I'm mute because I want to be,
I'm lost because I want to be.
Because being lost, and ignorant, is easier,
then being found, and knowing.
Knowing of what they think, and who I am.
I scare myself, and I'm scared of them.
A coward, to afraid to step into the light.
Too afraid to take the beating that knowledge brings.
Too content, in his world of ignorance, and bliss.
Now I know who I am.
Or so it seems again.
Um, we don't need the poetry to be good right? I sortof just write what comes to mind. It expresses feelings.
Now, some one write me a limerick.
But limricks are haaaarrrdd. How do you write a limerick again?