One time I drew a picture of myself;
It was a stick figure, because that's all
I let myself express. Cause, after all,
I don't want to seem crazy, so I let
myself go running, bound inside my cage of lines.
But anyway, that stick figure was real,
For all the simple reason it could think.
And, from Descartes, you know that if you think,
You are, you're real! And boy, that drawing dreamed-
It dreamed inside a bubble from its head.
That stick figure of mine could laugh and sing,
And hope for peace and happiness today.
But ah, too bad THEY're being DONE to things,
Or els, perhaps, that harmony could dream,
And then real life could fit inside my head.
Author notes
no more writer's block! let's have a party!
Adding your comment: