He scratched the paint off walls for kicks. A task quite odd, one might surmise; so natural to judge. And as I watch you walking past so fast, at last the time for Saturn. Dolls crawling of their own voilition make eyes grow larger still; attrition. Condition one says not to run but I'm inside their minds. I realize you'll miss them Ti's hard to see the sky sometimes, although it's always there. To trust in that, absurd enough to end up barking at the crows beside a man discoloring the world. My thoughts to you who find yourselves in this predicament; be happy yet beware of bliss. |
| Pentameter is Our Friend |