I'm sitting at my computer thinking
Where do i want to go with this thing?
Poetry and me are like gas in an egg omelet,
Might be hot,but not good for most folks to take in.
What life experiance do i use to creat it?
Or should i use something else, news, or
the senses?
Roses are red and violets are blue
was so easy to do when i was young.
But then so was love and life,
So, as simple as the past was, or seemed to be,
the present is at least as confusing.
So here I sit like a tree, waiting to become a Pencil, so I can write poetry.
Eggs, gas and trees, what a combo.
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